“Why do you want to know?”
“I think that’s obvious.” Gabe’s cool gaze flickered over him as though he were sizing up the competition. “But the last thing I want is to be accused of breaking up what appears to be a perfect couple.”
“We’re not a couple,” Gideon grumbled. “Yet.”
“So you are more than just friends?”
“Your sarcasm is starting to piss me off.”
Gabe laughed and let his arms fall to the side. “I’m a New Yorker. We’re known for our sarcasm.”
“Well, I’m a Chicagoan, and we’re known for kicking asses, so lay off, okay?”
“Gotcha. I don’t want to end up being used for batting practice.” Gabe took another sip of beer. “So why aren’t you two a couple?”
“Ask Red.” As much as he appreciated Gabe’s desire to not step on his toes, he didn’t feel the need to spill his guts.
“I did. And her reply was vague, at best.”
“And you thought by getting me liquored up, you’d be able to find out more from me?”
Gabe shrugged. “I think it’s pretty clear that I don’t stand a chance with her as long as you’re in the picture, so I thought it was time to change my objective.”
“And what is it now?”
“Helping you get the girl.”
Gideon let the words roll around in his mind before replying. For a second, he wondered if he’d heard Gabe correctly. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Hey, if I can’t have her, you should.”
“Hate to break it to you, but I’ve already tried once to convince her to be more than friends, and I almost lost her in the process. Not going there again.” He turned to head back into the villa, but stopped short of the door when Gabe called after him.
“Too scared?”
He spun around. “Yes, I am scared. Sarah’s my best friend, and I’d rather have her as that than lose her completely.”
“Even though you’re in love with her?”
The question hit him like a punch to the chest, driving the air from his lungs. He pressed his palm over the ache around his heart. “Is it that obvious?”
Gabe nodded. “And I have a hunch she feels the same way, but just like you, she’s scared.”
“Yeah, I know. She doesn’t want to ruin our friendship.”
“No, I think it’s more than that.” Gabe grabbed a chair and straddled it, his expression turning serious. “She’s scared of being in the spotlight again.”
“Understandably. You know her story.”
“Yes, and like I told her last night, it’s unfortunate that she’s choosing to waste her talent.” He rested his chin in his hand. “But maybe your solution to winning her heart lies there.”
“What are you talking about?”
Gabe tapped his index finger on his cheek, looking past Gideon into nothingness.
“Hello, Earth to Gabe?”
“Give me a minute, Kid. I’m coming up with the perfect plan.”
Gideon drained his glass, hoping it would ease the sick feeling forming in the center of his gut. He knew coming up here was a mistake.
“Yes, this might just work.” Gabe focused his attention on Gideon. “Are you in?”
“In on what?”
“My plan to get Sarah over her stage fright.”
“What does this have to do with me and her?”
“Everything.” Gabe hopped up from his chair. “Let’s get you another beer and hash out the details. If we can get her comfortable in the spotlight again, then she has no excuse not to be with you.”
He’d hit the core of the problem right on the head, even though Gideon had never revealed the real reason Sarah had given him on why they couldn’t be more than friends. She’d told him months ago that whoever he dated would have to accompany him to events and smile for the cameras, and she wanted nothing to do with that sort of life any more. But if he’d figured out the source of the problem, then maybe Gabe’s plan would help him get around it.
He followed Gabe into the villa and accepted the open bottle of beer. “So what’s the plan?”
“Part one involves helping her remember the joy of acting.”
“And how to you plan to do that?”
Gabe grinned. “Leave that to me.”
“You’re not going to get her a bit part in the film or something, are you?” He took a chug from the bottle and immediately regretted it. Fire burned through his mouth and along his throat. He spat out the beer and grabbed a bottle of water sitting on the counter.
Gabe pulled a tiny bottle of hot sauce from his pocket. “Got you.”
“Asshole.”
“And now that we have that behind us, we can move forward with Operation My Fair Lady.”
“You can’t come up with a better title than that?”
Gabe handed him an unopened bottle of a Mexican lager. “Just wait and see.”
But as Gideon listened, his own plan formed in his head. The one that he’d been too chicken to carry out last month. The one that was still sitting in an unopened box in his bedroom.
Maybe Gabe had a point about reminding Sarah of her brilliance.
And he had a golden opportunity to do so.
Chapter Eight
Gideon stood in the shadows and tried his best not to laugh out loud. None of the scenes today called for him, but when he learned that Gabe had to suffer through his own kissing scene with Mackinzie, he decided it would be worth the trip. Especially when he had the perfect practical joke planned to get Gabe back for the pepper sauce a few days ago.
Besides, it gave him a chance to get out of the villa and away from Sarah. He’d arranged for his housekeeper to mail him Red’s Golden Globe award, and it had arrived less than an hour ago. Now, if only he could come up with a good way to give it to her. As much as he thought she would appreciate the gesture, part of him still worried it would backfire, and she’d leave him. It was the main reason why he hadn’t given it to her earlier.
Now it was Gabe’s turn to squirm under the lights as Mackinzie ground her boney body against him and stuck her tongue down his throat.
Gideon’s grin widened. All those times Gabe had stood back and teased him about his love scenes with Mackinzie were now coming back to bite him in the ass. Payback was a bitch.
As soon as Karl yelled, “Cut!” Gabe wiped his mouth and did all but run off the set.
Gideon caught up to him in the kitchen of the home they’d rented to represent Esteban’s mansion. “Having fun?”
Gabe spit out the water he’d been gargling and coughed. “I need a drink.”
He tried his best to keep a straight face as Gabe opened the fridge. Last night, he’d taken a six-pack of twenty-ounce Diet Coke bottles and booby-trapped them. When he arrived on the set, he’d replaced the sodas chilling in the fridge that were reserved for Gabe. A single Mentos candy hung by a string under the cap, and the second Gabe opened it, it fell into the soda and created a geyser that splashed into his co-star’s face.
Gabe shrieked, and Gideon erupted into laughter. “Gotcha!”
“You son of a—”
“Hey, you ruined my favorite beer with hot sauce. Now we’re even.”
“Wrong, Kid.” Gabe shook off the soda from his hands. There wasn’t a spot from the waist up on him that hadn’t been soaked. “You went above and beyond.”
And the gleam in his eye told Gideon that he was already plotting the next prank to get back at him.
One of the women from wardrobe ran in, her mouth agape when she saw Gabe. “What did you do to your costume?”
“Ask him.” Gabe shed the damp jacket and handed them to her, followed by his dress shirt and tie. “It’s just Diet Coke. It should come out.”
“From a silk tie?” The wardrobe mistress narrowed her eyes and leveled her icy glare on Gideon. “The next time you two want to play a joke on each other, keep it off the set.”
Gideon continued to laugh as she stormed off. Howe
ver, his mirth evaporated the second Mackinzie arrived.
“Oooh, Gabe.” She pressed her palms against his pecs and practically dug her nails into his flesh. “You’re even sexier with your shirt off. Maybe we need to reshoot that scene with you like this—hot and naked and wet.”
Somehow, she managed to make the last five words sound like the title of a porno.
The effect was visible on Gabe’s face. His eyes widened, and he scrambled to put some space between them. “I think that would hurt Esteban’s image.”
“Why? You can be a manly stud. Besides, he’s supposed to be Mexican, right?”
“And what does that have to do with him being shirtless?” Gideon asked.
“I—uh…” Her face went as blank as her mind.
“Thought so.” Gideon grabbed a dish towel and tossed it to Gabe. “You might want to grab something to drink and leave while you’re still ahead.”
She gave him a disgusted simper and grabbed one of the rigged sodas before leaving with her nose up in the air.
“Thanks, Kid,” Gabe muttered as he finished drying off.
“Don’t call me that.” Gideon leaned against the counter and wondered how much of his plan he should share with his co-star. After all, Gabe seemed more than willing a few days ago to help him with Sarah. “I wanted to run something by you.”
“So you didn’t just show up to prank me? I’m touched.”
“No, seriously, this has to do with Operation My Fair Lady.”
Gabe snapped his head up, his expression alert and attentive. “I’m listening.”
“You know that she won a Golden Globe, right?”
“Yeah, for Best Supporting Actress in a Mini-Series.”
Gideon paused, wondering how much of Red’s past he should reveal. “Well, a few years ago, she sold it.”
“She what?” Gabe’s face fell slack in horror as though she’d spit in the Pope’s face or something. “Why?”
“She was low on funds.” A partial lie. In truth, she’d sold it to buy ecstasy, a case of Cristal champagne for her friends, and God only knew what else. “But that’s beside the point. A month ago, I tracked it down and bought it off a memorabilia place down in Miami.”
“And what did she say when you gave it to her?”
Gideon stared at the scuff marks on his shoes and added a fresh one in his moment of uncertainty. “I, um, haven’t given it to her. Not yet, anyway.”
“Why the hell not?” Gabe smacked him on the back of his head. “You are sitting on a gold mine—pun intended—and you haven’t acted on it?”
“I know how she feels about her past and her former career. I was worried it might dredge up those negative feelings again.”
“Or you were probably scared you couldn’t perform under pressure because I can guarantee you, she’ll want to screw you senseless as a thank-you.”
“Don’t talk about Red that way. It’s not like that between us.” Not that I didn’t wish it was.
“Then what is it? Are you content with this seeming platonic bullshit façade you two have that’s covering up heaps of sexual tension? Or are you willing to take the risk to make things happen?”
“We’ve never even kissed.” He pushed off the counter and paced, raking his hand through his hair. “At least, not when a script hasn’t called for it.”
“But doesn’t she help you run lines?”
“Of course she does. But I’ve always stopped when it came to those things. Sort of an unspoken rule between us.”
“That’s only adding to your frustration.” Gabe opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. “You didn’t tamper with these, did you?”
“No.”
Gabe took a long drink from the bottle, but the tightness in his shoulders spoke of a mind that was clearly on overload. “Why don’t you just have her run a scene with you and follow through?”
“Because I—” Gideon stopped and leaned on the counter. “If I had any fleck of interest from her, just a small hint that she felt the same way about me as I do for her, I would’ve acted on my feelings long ago.”
“And what makes you think she doesn’t feel the same way?”
“Because when I asked her to be more than friends, you would’ve thought I’d asked her to kill someone.”
Gabe closed the space between them. “Was it disgust? Or fear?”
“The latter.” I hope.
“Then try melting her heart the other way. You already have the means to do it.”
“So you think it would work?”
Before Gabe could answer, an ear-piercing shriek came from the next room. “Those bastards!” Mackinzie yelled.
Shit! He’d forgotten about the Diet Coke.
“Go, Kid.” Gabe pushed him toward the door. “Leave before she catches you. I’ll smooth things over here. Just figure out a way to give Sarah her award.”
Mackinzie’s rants grew louder, reminding him of the night she’d ruined his date with Sarah at Guy Savoy’s. And like that night, he didn’t want to get tangled up in her snare when he already had plans with Sarah.
He dashed for the door and never looked back.
***
“Gideon, there you are!”
Sarah intercepted him before he made it to his bedroom to retrieve the award. She looped her arm through his and guided him to her bedroom. “I want to show you a few things.”
She was so excited, so animated, so lit from within that he couldn’t deny her anything. All he could do was marvel at her radiance.
“First off, I was able to reschedule our dinner at Guy Savoy’s for next week.”
He paused and mentally ran through his schedule. “I think we’re out in the desert next week.”
“You are.” Of course—Red knew his schedule better than him. “But you should have enough time to shower and change for the nine o’clock reservations.”
She pushed him into her room and closed the door behind them.
His pulse cranked up a notch. He was alone with her. In her bedroom. It would be the perfect opportunity to pull her into his arms, kiss her until they both fell onto the bed…
“Voila!” His fantasy slid to an abrupt stop when she held up a black dress.
Her bright smile forced him to hide his disappointment. “It’s a dress.”
The corners of her mouth fell, and a crease appeared above her nose. “Yes, but I made it. It’s one of my Red Sage designs.”
Shit! He scrambled for something to say. “It’s…nice.”
“Oh.” She lowered the dress and turned away.
Now he felt even more like a son of a bitch. He took her hand. “I’m sorry, Red. I don’t know that much about women’s clothes.”
“Probably a good thing,” she teased with a half-smile, and some of his worry ebbed.
“I bet it would look better on you.” He pulled her closer until the width of their joined hands marked the space between them. “Care to model it for me?”
“I can take it one step further. Why don’t I wear it tonight, and we can do a touristy thing or two?”
“You sound like you already have plans.” Sage Holtz might have done whatever the moment called for, but the Sarah before him was not known for her spontaneity.
“Actually, I do.” A mischievous gleam appeared in her eyes before she pushed him out of her room.
He’d have to wait until after she changed into the dress before he found what she had in store for him. But at least it gave him a chance to run back to his room and retrieve a hat and the Golden Globe award.
The box was battered, and he wasted a whole minute trying to decide if he should open it and give her the statue, or let her open the box and be surprised. In the end, he decided to go with the latter. He arrived at her room just as she was opening the door.
His jaw dropped, and he forgot all about the box in his hand.
Sarah leaned against the door frame like a classic Hollywood starlet in a little black number that accentuated every curve and ma
de her boobs look twice their size. With her hair up in a simple bun, she looked like a sexier version of Holly Golightly from Breakfast at Tiffany’s, only without the bling. She was elegant, classy, and yet managed to leave him salivating.
“Better?”
“Much.” It was all he could manage to say while every drop of his blood rushed to his groin.
“I’ll take that as a win,” she said with a soft laugh before wandering back into her bedroom and picking up a stack of oversized paper. “I’d been tweaking this design for weeks.”
He followed her in and peered over her shoulder. Each sheet contained a sketched variation of the dress she wore, but he had to agree that the final product was far better than anything on paper. He swept his gaze across the room and noticed more small stacks of paper littering the bed and floor. “More designs?”
“Um-hmm.” She laid the sheets in her hand down on her desk and moved about the room to straighten up the other piles of paper, giving him a great view of her ass as she bent over. “I need to get serious about this fashion design project if I want to have any hope of moving on from my old life.”
His blood chilled, and all traces of the heated desire he’d felt seconds ago vanished. “Moving on?”
“Yes, I—” She stopped when she turned around. “What’s wrong?”
He licked his lips, but his mouth was too dry to even moisten them. The box in his hand seemed to triple in weight. “Why do you want to leave?”
She stared at him for what felt like an eternity before lowering her gaze and letting the designs in her hand flutter to the floor. “It’s been three years, Gideon.”
“I know, but there’s no rush.” He took a step toward her, longing to wrap his arms around her and keep her close to him for the rest of his days, but the slump of her shoulders warned him not to push his luck. “I mean that, Red.”
He wanted to tell her more, that she didn’t have to move on. Or leave. Or even do what she was doing now. In his ideal world, she’d be his wife, not his assistant. She’d sleep beside him every night in his bed, not in the next room over. And if she wanted to pursue this fashion endeavor, she could do it because she wanted to, not because she felt like she had to.
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