Now as Oliver pulled into the gym and parked, he knew his time of reckoning had come, a fact confirmed once he'd opened the door and heard the painful-sounding punches connecting with a heavyweight bag. He turned the corner into the main area and spotted his best friend midway across the room. "That bag supposed to be me?"
Mac paused and turned to face Oliver briefly before steadying the bag again.
"What do you think?"
Oliver continued closer despite the wariness he felt. He didn't want to be at odds with Mac, especially now. "Is the idea of us dating that hard to wrap your head around? I care for Marsali. I always have."
"That's the one thing I don't doubt." Punch. "What I doubt are your reasons."
"Come on, Mac. Marsali and I have always been friends. We've always been close."
"Not that close," Mac drawled. "I don't know when things changed but obviously they have. Friendship I'm fine with, but more?" Mac paused again and held up a gloved hand in Oliver's direction. "No freaking way."
"Mac—"
"This isn't a game, Oliver. And she certainly isn't some Hollywood hookup. Now get in the ring."
"So you can beat on me? I have a premier coming up." It was an obnoxious reason for not doing as Mac ordered but the only one Oliver could think of to keep from having to hit his best friend—or becoming Mac's punching bag.
"Don't be a wuss. If you insist, I won't hurt your pretty face. I'll just pound on the rest of you."
"Look, call me anything you want. I know you're angry. But if we beat on each other, Marsali will have both our heads on a platter. Do you really want to have to listen to that lecture?"
Marsali had given them both a few speeches over the years. Mostly about girls and where the guys fell short when it came to whatever problem they were having at the time. It was rare for him and Mac to have an argument, but whenever they did, Marsali had always been the peacemaker, lecturing them until they gave in just to get her to hush.
"I'll take my punishment. Now put the gear on or do without, but one way or another, I'm going to remind you of why it's not wise to date within certain circles."
"Marsali doesn't need us fighting each other right now."
"She doesn't need you groping her, either."
"Mac—"
"You swore to me you'd leave my sister alone!"
He had. He'd promised sixteen years ago when Mac had insisted on it. "She was a kid in high school then."
"Doesn't matter."
"It does. She's a grown woman now. Besides, you know I'd never intentionally hurt her."
"What I know is that you're taking advantage of someone who isn't on your level, man. She's… The girl didn't even know what Netflix and chill meant until I told her."
Oliver tried hard not to laugh but the sound came out despite his best efforts. "She's sweet, Mac. Innocent. I like that about her."
"She's a romantic with her head in the clouds, and you need to leave her alone."
"Why? Am I not good enough for her? I'm not, I'll readily admit that, brother, but I'm not some loser off the street. I can give her—"
"Nothing but pain," Mac interjected.
Oliver swallowed hard, his hands fisting at his sides. "Is it because of my past? Where I come from?"
Mac bit out a curse that would've had the women in his family scolding him.
"Seriously?"
"What else am I supposed to think?"
"Oliver, you had a rough start but that's not what this is about. Had you and Marse gotten together before Hollywood came calling, that'd be one thing, but now? You chose your path and it comes with a lot of trouble and problems she doesn't need to be a part of. Now I'm asking you to leave Marsali alone."
"I can't."
Mac let loose a curse and pummeled the bag with short, quick jabs that rocked it, not stopping until he was out of breath. That done, Mac whirled away from the bag and charged Oliver. He couldn't get a grip on him because of the boxing gloves, but he used brute force to throw Oliver back against the nearby ring.
"Marsali isn't the only thing on the line. If you hurt her, we're done. You hear me? How many of those Hollywood buddies of yours will ever have your back the way I have all these years?"
"None of them," Oliver said, holding Mac's gaze as he made the statement.
Mac lifted his hands and bounced them off of Oliver's chest.
"Exactly. You're walking a tightrope, Ollie. You fall off and nobody's gonna be there to catch you."
Oliver took the warning to heart. The last thing he wanted was to lose Mac when true friends were so hard to come by. Especially one who'd been a brother to him from day one.
Mac shoved away from Oliver with a frustrated growl and paced across the floor, punching the air like he couldn't help himself.
"Get geared up and in the ring."
Mac kicked a set of gloves at him.
Oliver bent to retrieve the gear and held the gloves to his chest, jogging backwards to start warming up, because at this point, he knew he had to take a few knocks to let Mac get it out of his system. "You gotta calm down, man. Stress will kill you."
Mac said something unseemly and Oliver grinned and pulled on the first glove. "Look, just try to accept it, okay?"
"And why should I do that?"
Oliver used his teeth to tighten the second glove and did a few test jabs to get them fitted comfortably. "Are you really going to make me fight you over this? Can't we just call it and find a game to watch somewhere?"
Mac's smile served as a warning, and Oliver swallowed hard, glad he'd spent the last twelve months training with one of the best martial arts experts in the world while filming his latest and had continued to practice since.
"You tell Marsali about meeting me?"
"No."
"Even better. We'll see how good of an actor you are when it comes to hiding the pain you're gonna feel for breaking the code and putting the moves on my baby sister."
They got in the ring, and after a few more minutes warming up, the two of them began sparring. Oliver let Mac get a few shots in, figuring they were well deserved for his true thoughts about Marsali, but after the third one connected, Oliver put the twelve months of martial arts training to use and took Mac down, using a wrestling hold to keep him there.
Mac's curses filled the gym, and once he was out of steam, Oliver leaned low. "You're going to feel really bad about this."
"What makes you think that?" Mac griped into the padded floor as he struggled to free Oliver's hold.
"Because." He told himself to keep his mouth shut and not do the very thing he'd warned Marsali against, but he sighed and said, "It's fake."
Mac stopped struggling.
"What?"
Oliver released Mac and jumped back before Mac's legs could connect and take him down.
"What's fake?" Mac demanded.
"Look, it's a secret and one you're sworn to keep, okay? I mean it. Marsali's career is on the line here, so unless you're willing to pay her bills and give her a new life, you won't discuss what I'm about to say with anyone."
"Just say it already."
Oliver explained how Marsali had come to say his name on air.
"Wait, so you flew here to—"
"To talk to Marsali in person to find out what had happened, and we came up with a plan."
"To fake date."
"Until she can get some things settled with her clients and the new book deal, yeah."
"Then what? How does this end well for her?"
The comment reminded Oliver of Marsali's panic attack as they'd headed toward the beach, and even though he had his own ideas on the best ending, he had to stick with the program. "Look, just give it a few weeks. As soon as some socialite gets spotted with someone triple her age, the attention will shift off of Marsali and we can quietly dissolve. At most… maybe a couple of months," he said.
"Months?"
"Hey, I'm a movie star. It's gonna have to be pretty scandalous to top me."
; Mac's expression left Oliver chuckling for a moment, but when his friend continued to stare, Oliver became uneasy. "What?"
"Why are you really doing this?"
"I just told you."
Mac shook his head.
"No. Uh-uh. I'm not buying it. That may have been how this whole mess came about, but you have always had a thing for her. Don't stand there and tell me you haven't."
Oliver ripped off a glove and tossed it to the floor. "I'm just helping her, man."
"Yeah, but why? See, that's the thing. Because I think you're doing all of this hoping it'll turn into more for real. Am I right?"
The Matchmaker’s Secret: Chapter 10
The following Monday morning, Marsali knocked softly on Oliver's hotel room door in Carolina Cove and waited for him to answer. She told herself it was because she wanted to check on him and not because she'd woken up this morning feeling as though she physically needed his presence.
But having spent the majority of the last two days with him, that was exactly what it had felt like. Not good, Marsali. Not good.
She heard a sound on the other side of the door and a slight scrape that might indicate the portal over the peephole being slid back. She stared at the metal ring, aware of the exact moment the lock clicked out of place.
Marsali braced herself as the door swung wide.
"Hey. I wasn't expecting you."
Marsali opened her mouth to respond, and her greeting came out mortifyingly husky as she said a choked hello.
She'd seen Oliver shirtless plenty of times over the years. From his less brawny, early college days hanging out in her parents' pool to his sweaty, oiled, and very masculine scenes on-screen. But seeing him all big and broad and strong in person now? It took effort to unglue her tongue from the roof of her mouth. "Um, did I interrupt your workout?"
The soft gym shorts hung low on his hips, and he wore a light sheen of sweat. She found herself having to forcibly turn her head to study the furnishings of the hotel so that she didn't ogle him like one of the fangirls Mac had so recently accused her of being.
"I'm finished so it's all good. That for us?"
"What? Oh, yes," she said, remembering the items in her clenched hands. "If you want it. I wasn't sure if it's on your meal plan. I know you… watch that," she said, realizing her gaze had drifted to his six-pack once more.
She forced her gaze high and found him smiling as he watched her. Of course Oliver would find her funny. He was no doubt used to women much more sophisticated and able to keep themselves focused no matter his state of dress—or undress.
"I appreciate it. Thanks. I was going to wait and grab something on my way to see you, but whatever that is will be perfect."
"Do you, um, think maybe you could put on a shirt?"
His low, husky chuckle warmed her insides and brought a hot flush of color rushing into her face she couldn't hide if she tried.
Oliver moved toward her with that lazy, movie-star stride of his and didn't stop until he stood far too close for comfort. She wanted to take a step back but refused to let herself retreat. She was a strong, confident woman, after all. Just not a—
"Why, Marsali… am I a distraction to you?"
"Um…"
"It's good to know the feeling is mutual," he said, lowering his head and kissing her cheek. "Good morning, beautiful."
Wait. What? "Oliver, I told you, you don't have to do that when no one is around, remember?"
"Ollie."
She blinked at him and frowned. "What?"
"You call me Ollie, not Oliver."
"Ollie," she said, his name emerging as a whisper. She cleared her throat and struggled to focus. "Um, there are reporters out front. And a bunch of fans. Hotel security is keeping them out as best they can but…"
"Marsali? Breathe. I'm going to compliment you whenever I want," he said. "And, yeah, the concierge called me to fill me in. Did you have any problem with the hotel staff letting you up?"
"No. No problem. I, um, had a client interview this morning at London's Lattes. After the meeting, though…"
"What?"
She inhaled but she couldn't shrug off the awareness she'd felt. "I'm sure it's nothing. I'm probably just being paranoid, and it's probably one of the reporters but—"
"Marsali, just say it."
"I think someone followed me. He got to the coffee shop right after I did, sat there while I conducted the interview, but when I left, he followed me here to the inn, and when I got on the elevator, he was walking toward them, too. It was… weird."
A knock sounded on the door and she startled.
"It's okay," Oliver said. "Hang tight."
Oliver walked over and looked out the peephole before opening the door.
"Good timing. Come on in."
"Is she here?" the man from the coffee shop asked. He wore tan slacks and a pullover and carried a leather jacket.
"Yeah."
Marsali stared up at the handsome man, noting that he stood taller and broader than Oliver. "Oliver, what's going on?"
"Marsali, I'd like you to meet Denz. Denz, Marsali Jones."
"Nice to meet you, Ms. Jones," the man said in his deep voice.
"I… Marsali. It's nice to meet you." She looked to Oliver for answers and found he seemed hesitant. "Were you just… How do you know each other?"
Denz looked at Oliver, both eyebrows raised as he waited for Oliver to answer.
"Denz is a bodyguard."
"Oh. I didn't realize. I thought you only needed one for big events," she said, remembering a conversation between her, Mac, and Oliver in the past when they'd discussed photos of him with various guards whenever he filmed overseas or in a large city setting.
According to Oliver, actors were a dime a dozen in Hollywood, and the only time bodyguards were needed there was if the star was controversial. So in his case, he occasionally needed one during fan-based events but that was it.
"He's not for me, Marsali. I asked Denz to come to Wilmington to keep an eye on you."
She blinked at the clarification. "Um. Why?" she said, ignoring the fact her voice quivered with her upset. She didn't need someone following her around like some—
"For safety. Why else?"
"I've been threatened?"
"No. But it occurred to me that with all of the new clients you're taking on, some might not have the best of intentions. Better safe than sorry. Denz is with Guardian Group, a protection and investigative service I'm familiar with. You can trust him."
She paced to the far side of the room, aware of both men watching her and very uncomfortable with that fact. "This is crazy. I do not need a bodyguard. If he should be guarding someone, it's you. You're the Hollywood star."
"Marsali, you won't even know he's there," Oliver said.
"I knew. I told you he—"
"Because he let you," Oliver said. "Which makes me wonder why?" he asked, looking at Denz.
"She picked up a gawker leaving the coffee shop, so I wanted it known she wasn't alone."
Marsali felt the weight of their stares once again and faltered. A "gawker"? She hadn't noticed anyone. "Really?"
"Yeah. Beady-eyed little guy about your height. Thick glasses. When he realized you weren't alone, he took off."
And isn't that the point?
The thought of being followed freaked her out, but the thought of being unaware she was being followed creeped her out even more. "I didn't see him. Um, thank you, I guess."
"Why don't I step out and give you two some time," Denz said. "I'll be in the hall if you need me."
"Thanks, Denz," Oliver said.
Oliver walked Denz to the door and then leaned against it momentarily once it was closed, his gaze wary when it met hers.
"I should've told you I was calling him. I planned to tell you about Denz when I saw you today," he said. "But I'm not sorry. Not when he's already proven necessary."
Necessary. Because of her involvement with Oliver. Oh, she so wasn't sure she could
do this.
"Marsali?"
She moved to the window and stared out at the Atlantic below. The beach was mostly empty, but there were several bundled up against the February wind to get their sand and surf fix. "I get it, Ollie. I don't like it," she said bluntly, "but I get it. I'll be more careful. It's so pretty outside that I left my car at the shop and walked here, but next time I'll drive."
"Good idea. And remember, it won't be forever. Once things die down, Denz won't be necessary."
She nodded and struggled to take a fortifying breath. "So, um, Claire said the press interviews are being confirmed with your agent, so she's rearranging some client interviews on my end. Claire also said your agent didn't exactly sound thrilled at the thought of us doing interviews together since they're for the premiere and not our romance, my book, or my business."
Oliver moved to stand behind her. She felt his presence before his hands settled on her shoulders and slid down her arms in a soothing gesture.
"Do you care what she thinks?"
"She's important to you. To your career. So, yes."
"Rikki will get over it. According to her, actors are more attractive if they're single but that doesn't mean she's right. Nor do I care. She has nothing to do with why I'm here or why I'm staying."
Marsali released the lower lip she worried between her teeth. "I'm causing you problems, Ollie."
"Nothing I can't handle."
"Are you sure? Because I also texted Mama last night after you left my house, and she said Mac was meeting you at the gym."
"We came to terms, that's all."
She turned to face him and took in his bare chest and broad shoulders, but other than rock-hard abs and a light smattering of chest hair, she saw no damage. "Do I want to know what those terms are?"
"That I don't hurt you. You know I wouldn't, right? Not deliberately."
She stared up into those dark eyes of his and wondered if it was possible not to be hurt by him. "I know."
"You should also know that I told Mac the truth."
Shocked rolled through her. "You did? But you said—"
Cupid to the Rescue: A Tail-Wagging Valentine's Day Anthology Page 52
