Which is why he hesitated to pick up the envelope. Whatever was in there would be visible to all. He ignored it and took a drink.
Jay chewed purposefully. “The auction and the date were fantastic. Would you mind doing another one?”
London choked on his water. He had to use his napkin to clean up his chin.
The auction experience itself wasn’t all that bad, but the date had been less than average. Anna was nice—a divorcee with two kids, she had a lot on her plate and admitted that after their date, she was going back to her yoga pants and yoga studio. She wasn’t ready to jump back into the dating scene, but thanked him for a lovely evening.
He’d honestly tried to make the best of an awkward situation. Jay had gotten wind of the whole gazebo comment and set up a romantic dinner for two at sunset in a gazebo. London didn’t find out about the plans until he was already in the middle of them. And then the guilt set in. A gazebo was a magical place, one he’d only ever shared with Maia, one he only wanted to share with her for his whole life. He could barely sit through dinner with his thoughts circling around her.
“Excuse me?” he asked Jay to clarify.
“You scored some major points with female fans by being pegged as a romantic by Maia. Women make up forty-five percent of the NFL fan base—that’s huge. The more they love you, the more football loves you.”
He shook his head. “You’re getting close to that line.” When London first hired Jay, he drew a line in the sand where he was comfortable promoting himself. If Jay ever crossed the line into pimp, he’d be out of a job.
Instead of responding, Jay pointed at the envelope with his fork. “You really should open that,” he said before pushing a piece of steak into his mouth.
London resisted the urge to look over his shoulder to see who was watching him as he put his silverware down and opened the envelope. Inside he found a ticket, an eight-by-ten glossy, another envelope stamped and addressed, and a handwritten note. He removed everything but the picture. For some reason, he felt like that picture was going to change things, that it was important. Ignoring the photo, he glanced at the ticket first, surprised to see that it was to Maia’s premiere.
Just one ticket. That was weird. He opened the note, hoping for an explanation.
Dear Mr. Wilder,
You are invited to attend the premiere of The Princess and the Well of the World’s End. Your ticket is enclosed.
Also, would you please autograph the photo and return it in the envelope provided?
Thank you,
April Jones, Personal Assistant
He read the note a couple of times. “This came to your office?” He had all his mail routed through Jay’s office. It was one of the measures he took to ensure his father was kept far away. A restraining order was another precaution, but good ol’ Dad didn’t think the law always applied to him.
Jay nodded, swiping his napkin across his lips.
“Why?”
“I’m guessing that has something to do with the picture.” Jay sipped his water and looked away, giving London what privacy he could when they sat at the same table.
London steeled himself. The picture could be one of a half dozen head shots Jay used for promotional purposes, but he didn’t think it would be that emotionally easy. Time hung suspended as he reconciled the way his life was now with not knowing what it would be the second he looked at that photo.
He grasped the edge of the image and slowly removed it from the envelope, centimeter by centimeter. Before he made it to the knees, he knew it was a picture of him and Maia at the auction. Excited now, he yanked the photo out and stared.
Maia was breathtaking. Not because her dress fit her curves perfectly—it did. And not because her long, brown hair looked so soft he could feel it sliding between his fingers—because he could. No, she was breathtaking because she looked like a woman in love. He squeezed his eyes shut and then wrenched them open again to verify that the man she was looking at was him.
It was.
And he was looking at her with that same awed expression he’d had in every photo of the two of them from high school. He hadn’t known they were being photographed right then or he would have tried to hide his feelings better.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” he muttered. Maia had practically run away from him at the auction, and now she sends him this? The mixed signals were confusing at best.
“Sign it and send it back. I thought you read the note?”
“No. I mean, am I supposed to go running to her? Is that what she thinks will happen? That she can snap her fingers and I’m slobbering all over myself to run to her?” He paused, taking a long pull of ice water. The ice clinked against the glass in a polite sound, but inside of London, his thoughts were screaming at one another.
Don’t open that door again.
Things are different now.
She couldn’t handle your life in high school—she can’t handle it now.
She’s grown up. We’re grown up.
You don’t deserve her.
He pressed the heels of his hands into his temples in an effort to stop the arguments.
“It’s an invitation to the movie.” Jay leaned over his plate. “You should go. It would be an opportunity to get your face out there.” He tapped his finger on the tabletop. “It would be better if you had a kid to take.”
London was an only child and didn’t have any children of his own. He could see the wheels turning in Jay’s head. If he didn’t put a stop to this, Jay would hire some childhood actor to pose as his little brother or something. “There’s only one ticket.”
Jay deflated. “Well, you there alone is better than you not there at all.”
London picked up his fork, ready to taste his steak, though it was probably cold by now.
“What did you mean, she thought you’d come running?”
London didn’t answer. Instead, he focused on cutting the perfect size of steak.
Jay leaned back, his eyes narrowing. “London, I know you, man. You’re not the type for a one-night stand. What’s with Maia?”
London put the steak in his mouth and chewed slowly.
“I’m your agent and she’s hot right now. If anything happens with her, I’m the one who’s going to have to deal with the fallout. I deserve a heads-up.”
London continued to chew—pulverizing the meat to put off answering. It wasn’t like he could blurt out, She was the love of my life. That seemed so cliché—and ridiculous, considering they’d been seventeen years old. No one finds their perfect match when they are seventeen. They find crushes and first loves and sweethearts. Only, none of those words described what he’d felt—what a part of him still felt—for Maia. “We attended to the same high school.”
“Aaaaand …?”
“And we went to a few dances.” Every dance his senior year except homecoming.
“Aaaaand …?”
“And we didn’t part on the best of terms, and then we ran into each other at the auction. End of story.”
Jay swirled his water around in the glass. He blew out a heavy breath. “I’m going to be straight with you.”
“You always are.”
“This doesn’t look like an ending.” He pointed to the picture. “It looks an awful lot like the beginning.”
London let his gaze drop to Maia’s face. He could just as easily close his eyes and mentally trace her cheeks, her lips, even her ears, because she’d been imprinted on his heart. He couldn’t escape her, and she, from the looks of things, still burned a candle for him. If there was even a chance that he could hold Maia once more, he had to go for it. “Book me a flight to LA and a hotel near the venue.”
Jay grinned like the cat who’d caught the canary.
“But not a word to the press. They’ll find out I’m there soon enough.”
“Fine. Fine. Whatever you want.”
What London wanted was to go back in time fifteen minutes before he’d seen that picture, befor
e his heart could latch onto hope, before he was about to run pell-mell after one of the most-sought-after women in the world and probably make a complete fool of himself.
But if there was a chance, even a slim one, that Maia could forgive him, he had to take it.
Chapter Seven
London buttoned his tux as he stepped from the limo. He eyed the red carpet warily, not sure if he was supposed to duck to the right with a group of onlookers or make his way into the El Capitan Theatre.
The whole street was blocked off to traffic. A long line of limousines drove on the wrong side of the road, and the red velvet ropes reached to the dotted yellow line to accommodate the press of fans and photographers.
And he thought game-day traffic was cray-cray.
An attendant in a red-and-gold jacket cleared his throat.
London glanced at him and realized he was blocking the man from shutting the car door so the driver could keep the line moving. He smiled as cameras flashed and made his way to the old-fashioned ticket booth. Before he could disappear inside and get his bearings, a small woman wearing a nondescript black dress rushed to his side.
“Mr. Wilder. We’re so pleased you could make it. I’m April, Maia’s personal assistant. If you could follow me.”
She seemed so sure of herself that London followed her without question. Even though he had a hundred questions. So this was the personal assistant behind the invitation … She was a tiny little thing, able to squeeze through gaps in the crowd that London had to shoulder his way through.
When they stopped, he was back outside, near the front of the line.
April flipped on him. “Your timing is incredible. Now, when that car—” She pointed to the limo second to the front. “—stops, you’ll hold out your hand to help Maia from the vehicle. Then, offer her your arm and escort her to the photo booth to the right. I’ll meet you two there.”
London didn’t have time to fully process what she’d asked him to do, nor did he have the chance to ask questions, because April disappeared faster than a grasshopper in a cornfield. Man, that woman was slick!
The cars moved forward and his moment had arrived. He stepped out of the group and made his way to the car. His heart pounded five times for every footstep, drowning out the screaming fans.
The attendant opened the door and London flung his hand in front of the opening, praying he hadn’t already messed up and picked the wrong car. He was standing off to the side, purposefully staying out of her way as half her dress exited before she did.
Maia’s delicate fingers landed in his, and all the buzzing and churning and pounding inside of him calmed like lake water in the early morning sun.
She set both feet on the ground and gracefully emerged, bringing to mind a bird about to take flight. Her hand tightened in his as the noise level tripled and hundreds of cameras momentarily blinded them.
Maia stepped forward and lifted her hand to wave. “What are you doing here?” she asked without dropping her smile.
London’s heart fell ten stories. “You invited me.”
She moved forward at a steady pace. “No, I didn’t.” She tugged at his arm. “Keep smiling.”
London did—though he felt like doing anything but smiling at the moment. He’d been played by that sneaky little assistant—and possibly his agent—and he didn’t like that feeling at all. They marched on. Since when did the red carpet grow this long?
“Maia, when did you start dating football players?” called a photographer.
Maia ignored the question, her eyes constantly traveling. “People are going to think we’re together.”
That wasn’t his fault. In fact, none of this was his fault. He’d followed his heart and it got him in a pickle. Fine. If April and Jay wanted a spectacle, he could give them one. “We are together,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. “You’re holding my arm.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know!” He winked.
She whipped her head around and wouldn’t look at him for the rest of the walk. Near the front doors was a section of children all dressed to the nines and all holding small autograph books. It was obviously a marketing ploy for pictures of the latest princess with her adoring fans. Maia stopped there and removed her hand from his arm.
London stood back, clasping his hands in front of him like some bodyguard. A little boy raced around Maia and slammed into his legs. “You’re London Wilder!” His blue eyes were huge as he looked London up and down.
London laughed, feeling some of his tension slip away. Let the world love Maia; he could hang with this kid all night long. “What’s your name?”
“Keeton.”
Maia hugged several little girls in princess dresses and posed for pictures. She was poised and perfect. London dragged his eyes off of her and back to Keeton. “I take it you like football.”
“I love football,” he corrected.
His mom came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry. I know he’s supposed to stay behind the line.” She gave him a tug.
“Mom! I gotta get his autograph.” He held out his book and pen even as she dragged him away.
“Wait—it’s okay.” London got down on one knee and motioned Keeton closer. He complied, and his mom watched them with an indulgent smile. Keeton wasn’t shy at all. He came right over and sat on London’s knee. That wasn’t what London had in mind, but when the kid put his arm around London’s neck and held on, stretching his many freckles with his smile, London didn’t have the heart to make him move.
“Can you say: To Keeton, my best friend?”
London laughed because of his bravado. “You bet.” He wrote out a note, drew a block T for Titans, and signed his name. All the while, cameras clicked and photographers swarmed them like bees on nectar. “Here you go.” He snapped the book shut and handed it and the pen back to Keeton.
“You’ve made his year,” gushed Keeton’s mom. Keeton nodded, clutching the book to his chest.
London ruffled Keeton’s stick-straight red hair. “Stay out of trouble.”
“I will.”
His mom sighed. “He won’t.” She hurried after him in the crowd, probably worried he’d disappear.
London signed a few more autographs, but mostly he hung back, letting the spotlight shine on Maia. April appeared as if out of thin air, her gray hair only adding to the image that she was some sort of magical creature. As small as she was, she was probably made of thin air.
“You!” London whispered menacingly.
April turned her nose up and stepped past him to Maia’s side.
“You!” he heard Maia whisper, making him burst out a laugh.
They both faced him and he wagged a finger at Maia’s assistant. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”
April lifted her palms. She spoke fast and below earshot of anyone but the three of them. “You needed a date. You were so lost that night at the auction. And the two of you have to talk things out.”
Maia closed and then opened her eyes again. “We are going to have a very long talk about professional boundaries.”
April nodded.
“But I love you for having my back.” She gave April a quick, one-armed hug that negated any sharpness in her previous warning.
Maia picked up her dress and slipped her free hand into London’s. Her skin was velvety soft against his rough palm. Somewhere, in the vast realm of eternity, two cogs fit together and wheels began to turn. “Thank you for coming.”
“Thanks for sort of inviting me,” he teased.
Maia’s smile inched from princess perfect to just for London. “Do you wanna go see a movie?”
“Is there anything good playing tonight?”
She lowered her lashes, instantly shy. “You’ll have to tell me.”
He’d forgotten that she did that when she was nervous, and couldn’t believe that a woman of her accomplishments could be nervous. A protective instinct, one that he’d always had for her, jumped
to the forefront of his consciousness. He used his knuckles to tip her chin up and waited until her vulnerable eyes met his. “Maia.” Her name came out rougher, huskier than he’d planned. “I feel blessed to be here right now, and I can’t wait to see your film.”
She leaned into him slightly, and he forgot about the cameras and the crowd and the sneaky little assistant.
“Miss Maia?” They turned to see an usher, dressed in the traditional short red jacket with tails and brass buttons, motioning them to move into the building. “If you’ll proceed into the theater, please. The next guest is about to arrive.”
“Right.” Maia moved herself to the side and picked up her dress again. “You ready to be dazzled?”
London winked. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” He walked toward the glass doors with Maia on his arm, wondering if he was ready to let her blow his heart wide open like only she knew how.
Chapter Eight
“What a coincidence—our seats are right next to each other.”
Maia giggled as she moved sideways through the theater seats. She’d tried walking forward, but her dress prevented the movement, so she sidestepped her way to the middle of the row. “I’m so sorry about April. She’s never done anything like this before, and she is the best assistant I’ve had.”
She found her seat and then proceeded to arrange her dress so she could actually sit.
London looked on, his eyebrow cocked.
She lightly slapped his arm. “Stop laughing at me.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“You’re laughing inside.”
His eyes laughed harder.
“You!” She smacked him again before finally throwing herself down and landing in a heap of fabric.
“Is it safe?” London circled his hand, indicating her predicament.
She grabbed handfuls of fabric and shook it. “You never know …”
He shrugged and then hooked his thumb with his nose like a boxer. “I’m coming in.”
She laughed as he made a show of sliding himself into the seat without touching her dress. She hadn’t laughed this much on a date in some time. Most guys were too nervous around the photographers, or they tried to move in on her to make sure they were also filmed. Not London. He’d held back, being kind to those who approached him, but leaving the spotlight to her. Not that she’d mind sharing with him, but she appreciated his courtesy.
The Warrior Groom_Texas Titans Romances Page 4
