A Blockbuster Proposal_The Trouble with Dating an Actor

by Lucy McConnell

“Oops,” he said, with an innocent lift of his shoulders.

  Allie lifted an eyebrow in challenge and her gaze dropped to his belly. She swiped at him. Mark spun out of the way and in a blur of ninja-like moves knocked her brush to the planks and left a brown stripe down her arm and across her chin. Allie could hardly believe what had just happened.

  Mark folded his arms, making his muscles look all that much bigger. “Not bad.”

  Allie sputtered, “How’d you do that?”

  “Slade McCoy.” He pointed to his chest. “Remember?”

  Just to his side, Olivia brandished her paintbrush and a wicked gleam in her eye.

  Allie bit back her smile. “I surrender.” She put up her hands just as Olivia made a large Z on Mark’s back.

  Whipping around, he painted her cheeks and one arm while she giggled uncontrollably—pleased as punch to have Mark’s attention. He spun and got Allie’s hip too.

  “What was that for?” Allie asked in mock astonishment.

  “Conspiring against me.”

  Still laughing, Olivia put out her fist. “Totally worth it.”

  Allie fist-bumped her. “Agreed.”

  Mark lifted the paint can and one half of his mouth in a crooked grin that had Allie gripping Olivia’s arm.

  “Truce. Truce.” Olivia caved on the spot.

  Mark’s focus turned to Allie.

  “Me too.” She laughed.

  He set the paint can down with a leery look. “I’m not quite sure I trust you two.”

  They giggled conspiratorially but didn’t comment.

  “Hey up there,” called a photographer. “Smile!”

  They repositioned themselves for the photograph and Mark’s arm draped across Allie’s shoulder. She leaned into him, appreciating his solidness and sexiness and lighthearted fun. She wouldn’t think an A-list actor would spend his Saturday afternoon painting over graffiti with a bunch of teenagers, and yet here he was, all strong and happy and like a dream.

  The photographer snapped the picture and waved to say he was done.

  Allie tipped her head up to look at Mark. “You’re not what I expected.”

  “Is that your way of saying I’m shorter in person?”

  She put her hand on his chest. “If anything, you’re a bigger man, Mark.”

  Mark brushed his fingers across her cheek.

  “If you don’t get to work, I’m going to have to separate you two,” yelled the organizer. His tone was half-serious, half-joking, but Allie suspected he would follow through with the threat.

  Mark squeezed her side. “I guess we’d better paint.”

  “So long as you paint the brick and not me.” Allie rubbed her semi-wet elbow into Mark’s side.

  He gave her a stern look. “Don’t start.”

  Laughing, she wiggled her brush towards him and then went back to painting the brownstone building. Mark took some time to talk to Olivia and Owen. He asked about school and after-school activities and their family.

  Allie was glad for a moment with her thoughts. Mark had indeed turned out to be different than she’d thought, which meant he wasn’t as different from her as she’d first believed. The heady feelings and bouts of giggling he induced to the side, he had a way of looking at the best in people, herself included. She liked that about him, liked the way he made her feel like she was special.

  She’d never been special to someone before. In a way, that was comforting, because if she been a special someone and the relationship didn’t work out, she’d be broken. She just knew that when she gave her heart away, it would have to be to a man who would guard it as closely as she had. Even with Reed, she’d never quite trusted him and kept a part of herself back.

  Mark was slowly pulling at her heart, and if she wasn’t careful, he’d have her undone for sure.

  Chapter 10

  Mark pulled into a spot in front of Allie’s building. There was a do not enter sign taped to the glass, but a man shoved the door open from the inside.

  “Are you sure you can get back in?”

  Allie checked her phone. “It’s after seven and they said we could return by six, so I’m sure it’s fine.”

  Mark got out of the car and retrieved her suitcase from the trunk. Allie waited, the bag of fabric hanging over her forearm. He walked with her to the front doors, taking in the street. The neighborhood wasn’t the best, but the streets were clean. The rent was probably cheap and there were kids playing stickball half a block away. The Star Café down the street flashed a neon open sign in the window. That must be the place Allie waitressed.

  Allie turned and leaned against the doorframe. “Selina should have the quilt done in a week or so. She’s going to be so excited to work with this fabric.”

  “Do I have to wait that long to call you?” asked Mark. He took a step closer, and Allie had to tip her chin up to look in his eyes. She’d hardly made eye contact with him at lunch yesterday and now she held his gaze—he enjoyed the closeness.

  “You can call me anytime.”

  “How about tomorrow?” he pressed as he set her suitcase down next to the door.

  “Um …” She glanced down at her hands.

  “Too soon?” He cocked his head, studying her response. He wanted to leave, walk away like some suave guy in a movie. But he couldn’t bring himself to go.

  “Not at all. I turn my phone off during church services.”

  Mark leaned closer and slid his hand onto her hip. “Is it too soon to do this?”

  “You already did that.” Allie swallowed. “When we were painting.”

  “I did, didn’t I.” She wasn’t running scared and all her talk about how a kiss shouldn’t have happened seemed so far away. He didn’t want to push her, but he didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye like a man who was falling in love with a woman should. “Then what about this?” He searched for some sign that he’d crossed a line as he put both arms behind her back and pulled her body flush with his.

  “It’s all good.” She gulped, her eyes dropping to his mouth.

  Mark leaned down and pressed his lips to her cheek. “Too soon for that?”

  Allie sighed. “I wouldn’t think so.” Her hands came to his chest, where his heart pounded like a bass drum at a heavy metal concert.

  “Allie?” Her name came off his lips like a prayer. “I have one more question.”

  “Hmm?” Her hands slid up his shoulders and found their way to the back of his head.

  “Kiss me?”

  “I think that would be okay.”

  “Just okay?”

  “Really okay.”

  “Okay then.” He moved slow, savoring every sensation shooting just under and across his skin. The tantalizing tickle of her hair against his arm. The warmth of her skin brushing his. The gentile pressure of her fingertips on his neck. And finally, the supple taste of her lips. Her warm, delicious, and welcoming lips. His hand went to her cheek and he tipped her head to deepen the kiss. She moved with him, her body melding into his.

  For the first time—perhaps in his entire life—Mark felt real. This moment, this kiss, was as real as it got in this world of public personas, photoshopped pictures, and stage lighting. Allie was the real deal and he knew he needed her in his life. She was the anchor he’d been searching for. Before he got carried away, he slowed the kiss, hating to bring their time together to an end but knowing that there was a deeper connection growing bonding them together.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  Allie’s fingers went to her lips as if she couldn’t quite believe what had transpired between them. For Mark, the contact was so much more than an end-of-date kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of beginnings.

  “Night.” He let his hands slide down her back as he pulled away, needing to touch her until the last possible second.

  “Night.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners.

  She stayed there and waved as Mark pulled away, and he had to force his concentrat
ion into driving. He coasted home, unable to get Allie out of his head.

  Not that he tried. As far as he was concerned, today was the first day of the best part of his life.

  Sunday morning Mark was awakened by his assistant’s ring tone. He grabbed the phone off his nightstand and pulled himself up on one elbow. He’d get to see Allie today even if he had to follow her to church. Smiling, he answered with a light, “I thought I told you to take the weekend off, Kate.”

  “Google alerts are blowing up my phone.”

  “About me?” Mark blinked.

  “No, they’re excited about Black Friday deals in April. I’m sending you links.” She stayed on the line.

  Mark barely had time to scrub his cheeks awake before his phone beeped again.

  He clicked on the link, and images of him kissing Allie in front of her building filled his phone. He swiped through them, his anger growing, before he found the one of him pulling her out of the dive motel in her pajamas.

  Curses!

  “This is why I don’t take days off,” said Kate.

  Mark groaned. “This is the local paper, right? Nothing too damaging.” He caught the headline: MYSTERY WOMAN SNEAKS OFF WITH HOLLYWOOD DO-GOOD, MARK DUBOIS.

  Son of a biscuit.

  “You’re being naive on purpose,” Kate reprimanded him. “Was Allie in on this?”

  “No way.” Mark shoved the covers aside and searched for a pair of jeans.

  “How did they get these shots of her in pajamas?”

  “There were three guys outside the hotel when I picked her up. One of them must have recognized me.”

  “It’s grainy—probably a cell phone picture.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Still, she could be working you. Paparazzi were waiting outside her apartment.”

  “If she is, then she’s a better actor than I am.” Mark shoved his feet into the pants and buttoned them.

  “Then who?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it was just dumb luck.”

  “Ha! I’m going to do some digging. Lay low today, would you?”

  “I have plans to see Allie. We’re going to go to church with Chloe.” Not that he’d told Allie that bit of information. He’d kind of just come up with the idea. But it sounded good to him.

  “Geez.” There was a heavy pause while Kate worked over their options in her head.

  Mark let her ponder the situation while he found a nice shirt and slipped into the crisp fabric. This is what he hired Kate for, and she was good at managing his image. Fake-dating Aspen was Kate’s idea, and their lack of drama had kept him under the radar for several years while Beau struggled to leave his house without being attacked by cameramen.

  “Shoot—I should call Aspen and warn her.” Mark made a face. After spending the day with Allie, speaking with Aspen was like taffy that had been left in the sun—clingy and not at all appetizing.

  “I already shot her an email when the first image came in. I’m supposed to meet with her agent for coffee.”

  “Have I told you how wonderful you are?”

  “I’d love to hear it again.”

  “You’re amazing.”

  “Yep. I’m going to write a press release to explain what really happened with the hotel. I’ll take the blame for that one. I still feel bad. You’ve got the annual dinner for Waters without Borders next week, and we don’t want all this drama to take away from that.”

  “Got it,” replied Mark with a firm nod.

  “Mark?”

  “Yeah?” He grabbed his keys.

  “You’re right about Allie—she’s not the type to stir this up.”

  “No, she’s not.”

  “You’ve got to help her—she’ll drown in all this.”

  “I’m on my way to pick her up right now.”

  “You can’t go there right now. I’m sure there’s press all over the place.”

  Mark groaned. If he went charging in like a bull with a burr in its tail, he’d only feed the sharks. “What are we going to do?”

  “Meet me at the office.”

  “I’m saying it again—you’re wonderful.”

  “Well, up until now, you’ve been an ideal boss. If you stir up much more trouble I may have to quit.”

  “Empty threats.”

  She laughed and they said goodbye.

  The pictures were bad, a small scandal he could do without for Chloe’s sake, but nothing they couldn’t contain. Except that he really needed to not just seem stable, but really be that kind of a dad for his daughter. Was he putting his own desires before the welfare of his child? The thought plagued him as he drove through Atlanta towards Kate’s office. If this was going to blow over, he’d need to handle the press just right or the whole situation could blow up in his face. Not only would the paparazzi poison his relationship with Allie, they’d ensure that he never got full custody of his daughter.

  Chapter 11

  Allie couldn’t help the stupid big smile plastered across her face as she smoothed out the wrinkles on her favorite Sunday dress. Her lips had done little else besides smile since Mark’s kiss. How would she ever let another man touch her lips after experiencing a moment like that? She couldn’t. Mark was the guy for her. She knew exactly how silly and stupid she sounded, but she didn’t care. She’d meant what she said yesterday—he was different. Different from what she imagined a movie star to be like; different from all the other men she’d had in her life; different in the best of ways.

  She giggled and pressed her fingers to her mouth as she opened the street door on her way to church.

  Cameras clicked and flashes blinded her. She put her hands in front of her face, confused by the onslaught. “What’s going on?” she asked the man next to her holding his phone in her face.

  “Is it true that you had lunch with Mark Dubois?” His tone was accusatory, like sharing a meal was a crime and she’d been tried and convicted.

  Her defensive mechanisms kicked in. “Yes, but it was for charity.”

  “Did you spend the night with him?” asked a woman with impossibly thin lips.

  She hesitated. “No, I mean, not really. Not in the way you’re implying.”

  “How does it feel to be the other woman?” asked a balding man whose shirt buttons were tested to their limits by his pot belly.

  “Now see here—”

  Just as she was about to set the record straight, Kate pushed through the crowd and hooked her arm around Allie.

  “Tell them I’m not some floozy,” she insisted as Kate pushed her way through the crowd dragging Allie along. Body parts, cameras, and bags slammed into her stomach and shoulders.

  “Don’t make eye contact,” Kate instructed. “Don’t respond. Just get in the car.”

  Allie landed in the back seat of an SUV with tinted windows. Kate shoved her over and climbed in after her.

  Allie stared out the back window. “How can they say those things?”

  “They’re trying to get a reaction out of you.”

  “They’re good at their jobs.” Allie held up her hand to show how hard it shook. The knife of words they’d shoved into her gut twisted and turned. They didn’t know her. She was a good person—at least, she always thought she was. “What did they mean, I’m the other woman?”

  “You’ve got to ignore them, Allie. You can’t answer their questions. You can’t smile for the cameras. And you can’t get angry. Just put your head down and push your way through. They aren’t allowed to touch you so they’ll throw verbal darts, but if you move forward they have to get out of the way.”

  Allie nodded, her forehead tense. “How long will they stay?” She couldn’t imagine having to fight her way out of the building to go to work every day. Or, heaven forbid, have them follow her to the café. Although William would love the exposure. He wouldn’t care what they said about Allie as long as they bought coffee and sandwiches.

  “We’re working on a containment plan. I’ve got a meeting later today that should help
smooth this over.”

  “Is this … normal?”

  Kate blew out a breath. “For some stars this is a Tuesday afternoon. But the attention is unusual for Mark. He keeps a low profile.”

  Allie’s phone beeped. It was a text from the woman who played piano for the children’s choir asking if they were going to go over a song to sing for Mother’s Day in May. Allie bit her lip, unsure if she’d make practice today. She hadn’t missed a Sunday in over a year, but didn’t want to bring all this to the innocent children she taught. “Where are we going?”

  “To church.”

  “This isn’t the way to my church.”

  “We have to lose a few of the reporters on our tail and then I’ll drop you off. You should get there in plenty of time for services.”

  “Thanks.” Allie sent a reply to her pianist, then fiddled with her phone until they arrived.

  Kate handed her a short black jacket. “Here, put this on, just in case. And tuck your hair into the collar.”

  Allie did as instructed and they made their way inside. The organ blasted hymns. “Sorry,” Allie told Kate, “Mrs. Johnson doesn’t wear her hearing aids when she plays.” She spoke in a normal voice because a whisper wouldn’t have been heard over the pipes. “They switch to the piano about five minutes before service begins.”

  Kate put her hand on Allie’s arm. “It’s fine. I’ve got to make a few phone calls, so I’m going to step outside.”

  Allie nodded and took a seat near the back of the chapel. She took a deep, calming breath and let her thoughts travel up to the vaulted ceilings and strong support beams. The stained-glass window behind the pulpit blazed with mid-morning sunlight.

  Mrs. Johnson came to an abrupt stop in her playing—she quit at five minutes to ten whether the song was done or not so she’d have time to get settled before the preaching began. A few children turned in their seats and waved at Allie. She returned their greetings, finally feeling safe. These people knew her. They trusted her with their children. Everything would be okay. Kate had said so.

  The pastor’s wife tickled the ivories in a soothing rendition of “How Great Thou Art.”