Out in the parking lot, I could feel Greyson’s eyes on me while we loaded the groceries into the back of his Escalade. Purposely, I ignored it. If I’d learned anything over the last few months, it was that Greyson Meyers seldom had a thought he didn’t vocalize. Give him a minute, and whatever perplexed him would be public knowledge.
“You know,” he leaned his back against the side of his pearl opalescent SUV, his arms folded over his chest, “we’re pretty amazing together. Why do you keep fighting this?”
“And there it is,” I muttered at his insane predictability.
Pushing himself off the SUV, he closed the space between us. Stealing the bread from me, he casually tossed it into the car. Then, caught my hands, and made me look at him. “You can’t deny the attraction between us. Why not take advantage of it?”
“There are reasons,” I shook my hands from his grasp and dropped them to my sides before he could feel them begin to tremble, “which we have gone over enough times that it seems you would have them memorized by now. Yet, here we are … again.”
“All I need to know is that my pulse races whenever I’m near you.” He spoke the words against my hair, the tips of his fingers delicately tracing down my arms. “You going to tell me that’s one sided?”
“None of this is real, Greyson.” I gulped, fearful that the pounding of my heart was becoming audible. “You didn’t decide you liked me and make a move. The studio made us. If I thought for one second any of this was authentic, maybe I’d consider it. But it’s not.”
“If we gave it a chance it could be real. All we have to do is close our eyes,” nudging my nose with the side of his, he closed his eyes and parted his lips in welcoming invitation, “and take that leap.”
Every fiber of my being ached for him, yet still I pulled away, my fingertips lingering over his lips that I so badly wanted to taste. “The only reason you are even remotely interested in me is because I, unlike every other woman that has ever crossed your path, am telling you no.”
“If that was true I would be into Willa,” he countered, yet respected my wishes enough to back off a step.
“Yes, but there’s a chance that Willa eats babies for breakfast, so she’s disqualified from any conversation that involves actual humans.”
In the distance I heard the unmistakable sound of camera shutter click. Funny how that was now commonplace in my life.
“I like you as a person, Bree. You make me smile. I just think with a little time and intimacy ...” he playfully wiggled his eyebrows, “we could make this the real thing.”
Many things could be said about the Hollywood heartthrob. The most unarguable one being that he was so unbelievably hot it actually kind of hurt to look directly at him—like staring into the sun. More importantly than that, I had found he was an incredibly sweet soul. One I had no desire to hurt or lead on. Laying one hand against his cheek, I cocked my head and offered him a soft smile. “The order there is completely twisted. That is why I’m going to stick with no. We are really great just the way we are. I don’t want to jeopardize that. Do you?”
Tilting his head, he kissed my palm, igniting a rush of warmth through my core. “We are great … for now. But I have no problem waiting for more. And that, Ms. Evans, will be phenomenal.”
Chapter 19
I didn’t lie to Greyson. Kole had gotten me started turning my next book into a screenplay. However, as of late, his tutoring had been steered in a different direction that I purposely omitted from discussions with Grey to spare his feelings.
“How close are you to having the screenplay done?” Kole asked, guiding me down the hall at Raven’s Claw Studios toward the elevators.
“I’m almost done deleting all of the—as you so sweetly put it—narrative crap. Then, I just have to add the set description and formatting, and I think I’ll be on track.”
Kole’s hand raked over his well-trimmed beard, his mind visibly churning. “Good. When True Love hits number one at the box office, and we know it will, you’ll be set to provide your own financial backing for movie two. By Hollywood standards you’ll be unstoppable; a free agent in a town full of bigots.”
The combination of nerves and room temperature brought on a sudden onslaught of the chills. “No pressure there,” I muttered through my chattering teeth, my hands rubbing up and down my arms to warm them.
Casting me a sideways glance, Kole shook his head and shrugged off his burgundy hoodie. “You know Marge in maintenance is in the thralls of menopause and keeps this place a balmy fifty-seven degrees, yet you never bring a sweater. That’s the very definition of madness.”
Tugging the sweatshirt up my frozen arms, I subtly indulged myself in a deep whiff of Kole’s scent lingering on the fabric—ocean air mixed with dryer sheets. “Maybe I just like that it smells like you,” I teased with the blatant truth.
“Should smell it after I play volleyball with my friends—downright rancid,” he snorted with a humorless laugh.
Tipping my head, I let my mind wander. “Well that’s a fun visual—just like that scene from Top Gun.”
Kole didn’t so much as crack a smile. “It’s nothing like that. There’s a lot more grunting and a plethora of receding hairlines.”
Slowly, I dragged my tongue over my teeth. I knew I was flirting, mainly because I was using lines I may as well have stolen straight from Greyson’s playbook, but why I was bothering was beyond me. From the second Kole learned I was living with Grey he had erected an icy wall around himself, blocking off his fun, cavalier side altogether.
“Believe it or not, you are ready for this,” Kole coached. His finger jabbed the up button to call the elevator. “You are prepared for any argument Art may have, and I will be right there to back you up. We will get an end date to this whole Lucy and Ethel arrangement today.”
“Mr. Camden! Mr. Camden!” Duncan yelled, sprinting down the hall in our direction. Stopping in front of Kole, he slapped a hand on his boss’s shoulder to pant, “We have a huge problem. The international trailers of True Love just arrived, and the Portuguese one says Ela escreveu o livro em lemurs, which means ‘she wrote the book on lemurs’!”
Piercing blue eyes turned my way, and Kole’s face white-washed of emotion. “Any chance you’d be open to that rewrite?”
“I think those hoping for hot-monkey love would be disappointed,” I countered. “It should probably be changed.”
“All right, I’ll go make the call.”
Kole made it two strides before I caught his arm in a death grip. “Right now? We’re supposed to meet with Art in five minutes!”
Behind me, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.
Curling his hand over his arm, he peeled off my white-knuckled grasp finger by finger. “One quick phone call and then I’ll meet you up there. We went over all of the details already. You’ve got this.” Giving my hand a quick pat, he deposited it at my side, then jogged off in the direction of his office.
Standing before Art’s wall of windows, I stared out at the lush view of emerald hills and towering palms without really seeing any of it. How I got there, in life and literal terms, I couldn’t quite recall.
“An engagement?” I parroted, hoping I’d misheard him.
Art leaned back in his chair and swiveled it on its base. “I understand you came in here hoping for things to go in the exact opposite direction, however we can’t let this momentum die. I’m not sure we’ll have to take it all the way to a wedding—you aren’t a Kardashian—but that rock on your hand will start a frenzy. The cult following we’ve acquired will sleep out for weeks to get tickets to the sequel!”
Kole had loaded a quiver of debate-ready weapons for me to utilize during this “meeting.” Unfortunately, it had since morphed into an ambush. The only arguments I could muster bled from my lips in the whiny, high-pitch octave of a tenacious pre-teen—a fact I wasn’t proud of. “The staged engagement thing has been done. It’s old, stale, derivative, contrite, and a few other adjective
s that mean really bad things.”
“There’s a reason it’s been done,” Art argued with a tight smile. “It’s because the public can’t get enough of it.”
“Not my public.” Stomping my way to the other side of the room, I slumped down in the chair across from him. “They don’t need gimmicks … unless it’s a chance to win a signed book. Some would step on their own mothers’ faces for that.”
Easing his chair in my direction, he leaned forward with his elbows on the glass top table. “Aubrey, I want to make your sequel. I do. This just happens to be the fine print on that agreement.”
“Sequel.” Peering down at my hands drumming against the table, I tried the word on for size. When my head raised, my steely gaze found Art and held firm. “Have you even read the second book?”
“No, but to be truthful I didn’t read the first either.” Art batted the words away with a flick of his wrist, his pinkie ring gleaming in the sunlight.
“Steamy romance isn’t for everyone,” I grumbled, flames of murderous rage reddening my cheeks clear up to my earlobes, “even if that someone is on the verge of making enough off of it to feed an impoverished country.”
“Your point?” Art asked, his stare purposely blank to hide the irritation brewing just beneath the surface.
Clearing my throat, I struggled to keep an air of cool indifference in spite of my growing desire to grab him by the ears and slam his face into the table. After all, I was appealing to the morals of a man bankrupt in that particular department, getting emotional would only hurt my cause. “My point is that if you had read the book you would know that the engagement comes at the end after Paige’s ex comes back into her life, and sends her spiraling into a journey of sexy self-discovery. If your goal is still to parallel the books in some way, this would be the ideal time for Greyson and I to split.”
Art hitched one bushy, black eyebrow in contempt. “Do you have an equally attractive ex in your back pocket that could help us play out this little fantasy of yours?”
“No,” raising my chin, I stared down my nose at him, “but, then again, Greyson and I aren’t really a couple either. Romances can be manufactured. You taught me that.”
His mouth twisted in a venomly victorious smirk. “Yes, but I had the resources to make that happen, and—wouldn’t you know it—I suddenly find myself tapped out. That makes the engagement our only option … if you want your sequel made.”
A few weeks into the future and my screenplay would be finished and buttoned up tight.
A few months into the future and I might have enough money from residuals off the movie to be the primary producer on the sequel.
A later day in the foreseeable future and I may be ready to gamble on my independence.
For the moment, all I had was big plans and a whole lot of maybes. My rational nature screamed at me not to throw away an opportunity for that … no matter how much I wanted to.
Kole picked that to make his entrance, the glass door opening for him with a whispered sigh. “Hey, kids, did we reach an agreement?”
“Yes!” The spark of a new idea, rocketed me from my chair. I spun on Kole with my eyes wide and frantic. “I need you to be my ex-boyfriend!”
Raising one finger, he pressed it to his lips in question. “I feel I missed a few crucial pieces of this conversation.”
“It’s either that or I have to get engaged to Greyson,” I rambled without the luxury of pausing to breathe.
Kole’s raven brow pinched tight, a sudden dark intensity sharpening his features. “Because his family paid a healthy dowry?”
“Raven’s Claw wants to pick up the rights to book two.” A glance back over my shoulder proved Art was watching my little show with a fair share of amusement and no desire to help my cause, “They either want the public proclamation from an ex—like in the book—or the engagement. I know this is a huge favor for me to ask, but please?”
Kole rolled his jaw one way and then the other, his nostrils flaring. “You and your big dramatic moments.”
“What?” I jerked as if he slapped me. “No, it’s not me. At all. This is all the studio.”
“Oh, yeah?” Arching his back in a wide stretch, Kole laced his fingers behind his head and glowered in my direction. “What about all the advice I gave you? Or the conversation we just had? About you being a free agent? That ringing any bells?”
“Yes, I do remember. However, seeing as I wasn’t getting paid by the minute for all our conversations, I could only put so much weight into them. This isn’t what I want, but—”
“Do you actually know what you want?” he interrupted, his hands slapping down against his thighs. “You come sniffing around here all day, every day, then go home to Grey every night. Do you think you’ll ever be able to have anything substantial with anyone when you’re living under the same roof with a man that has literally been voted The Sexiest Man Alive? No man could be secure enough not to wonder what was going on there behind closed doors. Do us all a favor, Aubrey, and figure out what it is you want. And if that’s Greyson, quit wasting everyone’s time, and stringing people along, and be with him already.”
Without another word, Kole pivoted on the ball of his foot and marched from the room he had just entered. I stood, gaping after him. Each ragged breath that heaved from my lungs ached more than the last.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think that boy was jealous,” Art said, laughter flittering through his tone. “I’d predict a ‘no’ on his RSVP to your engagement party.”
Chapter 20
“Three days later was the pinnacle moment of my professional career—the US premiere of True Love. I should’ve been ecstatic, and in many ways I was. I mean, have you ever witnessed a Hollywood premier in person? It’s like prom, if it got hit by a lethal dose of gamma radiation and morphed into a dapperly dressed beast that fed off of narcissism.” My gaze traveled to the condensation streaking down the side of my water glass. “Unfortunately, the fact the Kole had completely shut me out cast a dark shadow over the whole spectacle. I’d come to count on his friendship, and because of my own actions he wouldn’t speak to me. Tandy had flown in for the event, and we spent an entire day getting pampered, primped, and sneaking French fries. With bated breath I counted the minutes until my work graced that silver screen … and I could come face to face with Kole and apologize.”
RB had been chewing on the end of a pen. Taking it from her mouth, she pressed the cap to her temple. “I gotta ask, are you some sort of alien? Greyson was throwing himself at you, and Kole was so hung up on you that it sent him into a jealous tizzy. You were basically living in a candy store and didn’t even sneak a lick. Not judging, but … are you asexual?”
“I just wasn’t interested in casual … licking.” Crinkling my nose, I forced out the word only to find it a prickly fit. “Can we pick a different verb? I’m not comfortable with that one.”
RB uncrossed and recrossed her long, dancer’s legs. Her elbow rested on the arm of the couch as she mulled over my shortcomings. “Maybe the extended deal with Raven’s Claw was the universe taking your game into extra innings because you hadn’t taken advantage of the opportunity it was presenting you. It was demanding you pick a path on this rite of passage moment between the comfortable compatibility you had with Kole, or the raw animal lust that oozes off of Greyson. I know which one I’d pick—if for nothing more than a long weekend.”
Chewing on my lower lip, I weighed her words and found them to hold some merit. “Maybe that’s true. They were both good men, they just offered very different things. Greyson tempted me with lust, excitement, and unbridled passion. Everything a woman could want, except for one key ingredient—his heart. In all of the advances he extended, it was never even mentioned.”
“And Kole?” RB asked, her gaze searching my face for telltale clues.
“Kole … called me on all my bullshit and that scared the hell out of me.”
“So how did you pick?”
With a g
radual smile curling across my lips, I picked up the story on the night when everything changed ...
“Aubrey, look over here!”
“Let’s see the gown! Give us a twirl!”
“Mateo, who is your date?”
“Greyson, can you step a little closer?”
“Can we get a shot of Mateo and Grey together?”
My plastered smile held firm amidst the flashing lights, screaming fans, and buzzing paparazzi. The easily recognizable entrance to the TCL Chinese Theater cast long shadows across the frenzied crowd. Sensory overload at the whole spectacle had practically shut down my cognitive operating systems. It fell to Greyson to move and position me as needed; his hand on my back turning me this way, the light bump of his shoulder swiveling me that way, a whisper against my ear encouraging me to tilt my head.
Every time our eyes met, he looked at me the way all women want a man to look at them—like he didn’t know beauty until that very moment. His pupils, dilated with desire, swept down the length of me. From the beaded neckline of my silk jersey-style dress, across the navy fabric that molded to my curves, to the slight flare just beneath my knees. It was a perfect princess moment … if the princess had wriggled into Spanx for the first time that day and felt like a polish sausage in toe-pinching high heels.
“You … wow,” he murmured, momentarily turning his face away from the cameras. Never had he more embodied the roll of Hollywood royalty. Woven silk fibers through his steel gray suit added a polished platinum gleam to his ensemble. His golden hair curled slightly over the collar of his shirt, a couple rogue strands falling across his forehead and dangling in his lashes.
“Wow as a verb?” I giggled. “I think you just won Descriptive Narrative with that one.”
“You deserve it.” Grey jerked his head in acknowledgement at a reporter calling his name. “And I have the best job in the world.”
Adapted for Film Page 13
