Her expression faded, though her smile didn’t dim. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t give out guest information.”
Of course. “Yeah—no. Totally understand.” He set the passes on counter, one for the con and one for the concert that night. “If she’s still here, can you make sure she gets these?”
She didn’t touch them. “If she’s not here, I’ll have to throw them away.”
Did that mean she was gone? “Do what you have to. Thanks.”
Brandon fell back into his routine, as the day wore on. He didn’t feel obligated to hide in his room anymore. If no one cared who he was friendly with, he could talk to his fans and enjoy the other panels.
He tried to ignore it, but as the hours ticked away with no sign of Molly, his disappointment grew, aggravated by the fact that Adeline hadn’t called him back.
Chapter Seven
Molly pulled her rental car into one of the last empty spots in the hotel lot. Historic Franklin was gorgeous. She was glad she stuck around for the weekend. She was even happier that she went out, to enjoy the town. Staying in her room all day with a random guy would’ve been an absolute waste of the gorgeous day.
And for the number of times she told herself that throughout the day, she almost believed it.
Throngs of people in costumes milled around the entrance and spilled through the front doors. They seemed to have doubled in number since the night before. It must be nice to be that enthusiastic about something. She shouldered her way through the groups. She wouldn’t look for Brandon. Not even a glance. She headed straight for the elevator.
She’d go upstairs, put on a pair of heels and her leather skirt, then take a cab downtown and drink until she couldn’t think, drowning herself in live country music.
Perfect plan.
“Miss Whitman.” A voice struggled to carry over the crowd.
Molly spun at her name, attention landing on the front desk and a gentleman waving to catch her attention. He held out an envelope as she approached. “Someone left this for you.”
She opened the flap, surprise and unwanted hope blooming inside at the sight of a convention pass and something she didn’t recognize. She looked at the hotel clerk again. “Did they leave a note with it or anything?”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t here when they dropped it off.”
“Thanks.” She gave him a wide smile and headed toward the elevators again, a bit more of a spring in her step. Okay, so she’d spent the day trying to get him out of her mind, but one more night would definitely be worth it. Besides, she’d fly out tomorrow, the temptation would be gone, and she’d have incredible memories to take with her to the next town.
Within a few moments, she’d returned to her room, changed into the outfit she’d set out for the bar, and was back down amid the crowds. This time she tried to flow with them instead of moving around them. She wandered the same paths as groups of people in neon and spandex. She had no idea where to find Brandon. Packs spilled out of the open conference rooms on the second floor and melted into the crowds on the first.
She didn’t even know where to start.
A long line—longer than the autograph line had been—wrapped around one corner and then another. That looked promising.
She spotted a familiar face and made her way toward Andie and her friends.
Andie looked startled to see her at first, but her surprise quickly faded into a smile. “Who’d you borrow from, this time?”
Molly laughed. “I got my own. What’s the line for?”
A shorter girl next to her rolled her eyes. “Yūta Furukawa. Duh?”
Molly stared back blankly. “The what?”
Shorter Girl sighed and pursed her lips.
“He’s a singer,” Andie said, voice soft but steady. “From Japan. He’s doing a concert tonight.”
“Oh.” Molly pulled out the ticket that had been with the con pass from Brandon. “Like this?”
“Duh?” Short Girl grunted in disgust.
“You can join us in line,” Andie offered. “Otherwise, you’ll be waiting out here forever.”
“She’s not even a fan,” Shorter Girl argued.
Standing in line longer meant she could scan the crowds, which was great, unless the person she was looking for was already inside. In her experience, it was almost impossible to find someone in a packed concert. With her odds at fifty-fifty, she opted for the easier surveillance. She gave both girls a smile. “Thanks, but I can’t cut. I’ll wait my turn.”
“Stupid.” Shorter Girl’s insult hit Molly’s back, as she searched for the back of the line.
Two hours later, Molly finally reached the entrance. Someone else told her the doors weren’t even open yet when she arrived. The heels had probably been a bad idea. And there was still no sign of Brandon. She squeezed her way to the back of the room—they’d opened the four main convention rooms downstairs, to make one larger venue—and found a spot near the wall. There were no seats left.
What was she doing there? There was no way she’d find anyone in this chaos. And the lights were going down. Great. She crossed her arms. What now?
A warm body pressed against her back, and she shifted to move out of the way. Two hands rested at her hips, and the familiar scent of soap and cinnamon greeted her. Brandon.
She couldn’t help her smile. Not that anyone could see it in the now pitch-black room.
“You came.” He brushed her ear with his lips, his breath warm against her skin. He slid his hands to her stomach, pulling her closer.
Heat spread between her legs, and she leaned into him, his arousal hard against her butt. What was it about this man? “Not yet, but I’m hoping to,” she said.
“I like that.” He kissed up the back of her neck, his words vibrating through her. “What are the odds I could turn the innuendo into reality?”
Before she could ask what he had in mind, he dropped his hand to the bottom of her skirt. He traced his fingers along the edge of the hem, around to the back of her legs, until he caressed her inner thigh.
She gasped, intensely aware of the people around them but not sure she cared. She shifted her weight, and he glided his hand higher.
Bright lights strobed from the stage, but none reached them. Heavy music pounded through the room, pulsing through her feet and thumping in her chest. Or maybe that was her screaming heartbeat.
While he pushed one hand up the back of her skirt, his other made its way under her shirt, to rest his palm directly on her stomach. “You know”—his voice was low, but right next to her ear, it still cut through the bedlam—“if anyone catches us, we’re in trouble.”
She nodded, the confession heightening her arousal further. Need throbbed between her legs, and her nipples ached against fabric.
“And you’ll let me keep going?”
She nodded again. “Don’t get us caught.”
His laugh rumbled through her back, as he slid his hand higher between her legs. “If I didn’t have to be on stage for the rest of the show, I’d see that as a challenge.”
He brushed the bottom of her breast through the lace of her bra, and she lost any reply she might have, temporarily misplacing her disappointment that they didn’t have more time.
“Our Master of Ceremonies for the night, Brandon Powell.” The announcement echoed through the room.
“Damn it, I’ve been summoned.”
She grabbed his wrist, to keep him from leaving yet, and spun to face him. With her free hand, she fished her spare room key out of her purse and slipped it into his back pocket. “Meet me upstairs after the concert?”
He kissed her hard, before breaking away. “Give me thirty minutes after it ends.”
Chapter Eight
Brandon couldn’t see Molly through the crowds, but it didn’t matter. Her room key was an alluring weight in his back pocket. He hopped off the stage. A few more polite goodnights, and he could sneak out for the evening. His pocket buzzed, and he grabbed his phone, frowning when Adeli
ne’s picture grinned at him.
He pushed into the hallway, looking for a sort-of quiet corner. “What?”
“Sorry to call so late. But I knew you had that thing tonight, so I was hoping I could catch you before.” She sounded pleasant.
“You did.” He resisted the urge to add, And I caught you, still not sure what was going on. “Do you have a few minutes?”
“Of course. I called you back, didn’t I?”
He glared at the phone. “So I talked to Trent from Funami today.”
“Oh?” Her cheer vanished in the single syllable.
“Want to tell me what’s really going on?” He wasn’t going to lash out at her. She’d been his agent for five years. There was no reason to throw a fit until he had her side of the story.
“Not really.” Her voice was flat.
Or he could tear into her now. “What the hell are you doing? He’s got work for me, and you’re telling me they never want to talk to me again. Is it personal? Did he piss you off? Are they trying to jerk me around? Help me out, here.”
Her sigh echoed over the phone. “It’s personal.”
He didn’t expect that. “Did he insult you or something? I don’t want to be working with a company that isn’t treating us right. You only had to tell me.”
“No, it’s not that.” She sounded tired. “It doesn’t have anything to do with Funami, except they didn’t have a lot of work for you, so I figured you’d miss them the least.”
He frowned. That didn’t make any sense. “It’s not a high-profile, big-money industry. I pretty much miss every job I don’t get. What’s going on?”
“I just...” Her voice faded off.
He waited. And checked his phone to make sure she was still there. And waited. Then— “You what?”
“It’s like you said.” Her tone was more sincere now. The voice she used when she wasn’t playing a part, simply talking to him straight. “We’ve worked together for five years, and it’s hard not to notice what a great guy you are, after all that time.”
This was weird. “Thanks?”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this. It’s killing me to see you out there, hitting on other women and not even noticing me.”
The words took a moment to sink in, their full impact pounding in his skull when they did. He had to be misunderstanding her. “We have a great business relationship. If I’m not saying thank you enough, I can try to be better about it. I appreciate everything you do for me.”
“This isn’t a professional thing.”
Shit. He understood correctly. “Okay?”
“I don’t want to be relegated to being your agent. I want you. I like you. A lot. I think I may have even fallen in love with you.”
He rubbed his face, shock coursing through him. Love. He couldn't imagine. Except he could—but it wasn’t Adeline dancing through his fantasy. “Even if I felt the same, us hooking up is a bad idea. You can’t represent me and date me,” he said.
“So I’ll quit.” Hope clung to her offer.
“No, Adeline.” Damn it, he didn’t want to do this. She was a good agent. “That’s not what I mean. I don’t feel that way about you.”
“So what are you going to do instead?” An icy edge slid into her voice. “Spend the rest of your life picking up fan girls in hotels? Survive off one-night stands, until you’re too old to catch anyone’s eye? What kind of self-respecting woman, besides me, is going to understand your travel schedule? And if you did manage to convince someone to put up with it, could you really do that to her?”
The words hit hard. Could he? Someone like Molly didn’t want a guy who wasn’t home for her, because he played a cartoon character on TV. Pursuing her was guaranteed heartbreak. “You lied to me,” he said.
“I did it for us.” The sugar was back.
“No.” He snarled. “You did it for you. As far as I’m concerned, we don’t work together anymore.”
“Brandon, sweetie”—she didn’t sound sweet at all—“I can fuck your career if you leave me. Keep that in mind.”
“Good night, Adeline.” He disconnected. Back to the wall, he sank to the ground and set his phone next to him. How did he not see this coming? He should be terrified about the impact firing her would have on his career. But he was good at what he did, and his cousin was a lawyer.
Still, heading up to Molly’s room would be a mistake. Another night together would be fun, but he was already hooked. How much harder would it be for him to walk away if they hooked up again? He needed to sever ties so they could get on with their lives.
ENERGY AND EXCITEMENT thrummed through Molly, making it impossible to sit still. She plopped on the edge of her bed for all of about two seconds, and then resumed pacing her room. The ambient energy from the concert raced across her skin, and anticipation tingled in her gut. Brandon would be there any minute. She should relax. She was acting like an anxious first-timer.
But her nervous feet wouldn’t listen, carrying her to one side of the room and then the other.
An hour later, the excitement had faded to anxiety, and the adrenaline of the night sat heavy in her stomach. She pushed herself to the top of the bed, rested her back against the headboard, and clicked on the TV. Every time a sound echoed from the hallway, she hit Mute. Was that a knock?
Something must have tied him up. Kept him longer than he meant. She should’ve given him her phone number. But that didn’t make sense if he didn’t have a reason to call her after tonight.
The minutes ticked away, and an ache spread through her shoulders and neck. The long week seeped into her bones, tempting her eyelids further down. Almost two hours. Damn it. What had she been thinking? Hurt and frustration flowed through her. She never should’ve gone down that path, taking the free passes. Or maybe her first mistake had been letting him join her for breakfast.
Her eyes drifted shut against her will. He wasn’t going to show up, anyway.
She jerked up with a start at a scratching outside her door. Her gaze flew around the room as she struggled to figure out where she was, and reality sank in when she saw the bright-red numbers on the clock telling her it was a little after five in the morning. The scratching was the staff slipping her check-out statement under the door. She stretched and worked the kinks from her neck. Falling asleep sitting up? Stupidest thing I’ve ever done in a hotel.
And then the rest of the memories rushed back. Of Brandon. Of being stood up. Of letting herself believe there was more to their relationship than a single night. Falling asleep sitting up was only the second stupidest thing she’d done in a hotel.
She pushed out of bed in resignation. Her flight wasn’t until two, but she couldn’t stay in this place a minute longer than she had to. She’d get breakfast somewhere far away, hit up a couple more tourist spots, and crash at the airport for several hours if she had to.
Anything that didn’t require her to be surrounded by memories of a mistake she should have known better than to make. She stripped off her wrinkled silk blouse, jammed that and the clothes from the night before into her suitcase, and grabbed the biggest, most oversized shirt she could find, to change into after her shower.
Half an hour, and she could be gone. She’d put the weekend behind her, and maybe after she threw herself into work for the next week or three, the ache in her chest would finally go away.
Chapter Nine
Brandon stared at the ceiling, blinking occasionally, to keep his eyes from feeling so dry. He wouldn’t look at the clock again. It wouldn’t do him any good. It would only be a minute later than the six-fifteen it was last time he looked. Sleep wasn’t happening. Every time he closed his eyes, images of a gorgeous woman with straight black hair taunted him. Even with his eyes open, he felt every inch of her curves pressed against him. Heard her moans. The soft gasps she made when she was about to come.
He pushed out of bed, the sleepless night making him feel careless. Though he was about to do one of the most selfish things he’d ever done, he c
ouldn’t convince himself it was a bad idea. He had to tell Molly how he felt. That despite it only being a couple days, he couldn’t imagine never seeing her again.
He was out of his room before reason could set back in. Hesitation gripped him, as he paused in front of her door. He breathed deep, slid the card into the lock, and pushed inside.
Shit. The comforter was wrinkled but still intact on the bed. The bathroom counter was empty. There were no bags on the floor, no clothes hanging in the closet, and the other key sat on the nightstand.
She was gone. Fuck.
He shuffled out of the room, letting the door swing shut behind him, and leaned against the balcony overlooking the middle of the hotel. The lobby was empty, except for a staff member watering the plants. Which made sense. Who would be up at this hour on a Sunday morning?
A gnawing pain grew in his gut. Maybe it was a good thing she was gone. Telling her he wanted to see if they were more than a random fling might be as awkward for her as Adeline’s confession was for him.
Except he refused to believe that. There was no way she was faking interest.
A movement caught his attention. A flash of black, six floors below. He whipped his head toward it in time to catch what had to be Molly, vanishing out the front doors.
He was moving before his brain finished registering the sight, sprinting down the stairs as fast as he dared without tripping over his tired feet. He pushed into the lobby and didn’t slow, still racing for the front entrance. He paused outside, to scan the parking lot. Please let her still be here.
And she was, about halfway to the back of the lot, loading her luggage into the trunk of a generic, compact rental. He took off again and came to a stop next to her, seconds later. He gasped for air.
“What do you want?” She stared back, face a blank mask.
“I...” He struggled for oxygen. “Wait.”
She sighed. “I need to go.” But she didn’t turn away.
Faking Love (Fake It Book 1) Page 4
