“If you were pregnant, on purpose, with my child. What would you look like?”
She melted under his stare.
“I think you’d look really beautiful,” he said, softly. Again his hand glided back and forth, spreading warmth on her belly. Emotion choked her and a prick at the back of her eyes warned her tears threatened. She took his hand and raised it to her lips. He bent his head and grazed her lips with his.
Love welled up in her heart. Her gaze slid over his body, enjoying his manly beauty, his strong build. He was her lover, her protector. Scooting up closer, she nuzzled his neck, and he closed his arms around her.
“Do we have to get up yet?” She asked.
“Tomorrow I have to train and prep for the next movie. But today is ours.”
After slinging her leg over his hip, she draped her arm around his waist and closed her eyes. “Can we stay like this for a while?”
“Why not?”
A soft smile stayed on her lips as her senses were bombarded by his masculine scent, the softness of the sheets against her skin, and the peaceful beating of his heart. The tickle from the hair on his chest, the scratch of his growing beard, and the warmth of his body heightened her awareness of his presence. A sigh of contentment crossed her lips.
“Bored?”
“Happy.” She snuggled closer. He pulled the sheet up over them and tightened his grip. His fingers combed through her tangled hair, soothing her. I could stay like this forever.
“Love you,” she murmured.
“Love you, too,” he replied.
Within five minutes, the only sound in the room was the even breathing of the sleeping lovers.
Chapter Thirteen
Annemarie and Antonio were hot news in the media. They stole the headlines and appeared in two-page spreads for several days. Interviews with the happy couple and stories about them, with smaller pictures of Quinn and Susanna, were headlines in newspapers and magazines, including Celebs R Us.
It wasn’t long before the story faded, and Annemarie and Antonio became just another married, celebrity couple with a child. But the hungry press didn’t have to go far for another story, with Quinn and Susanna turning up at tony nightspots, providing photo ops of the handsome couple. Rumors of marriage buzzed throughout the print media, on Twitter and Facebook as well.
Day after day, Quinn and Susanna rose to find pictures of themselves from the night before splashed all over. Eating dinner in a sidewalk café or out dancing until the wee hours of the morning, there always seemed to be a photographer nearby. But they didn’t care. There was nothing to hide now. So what if the media said they were dating or living together?
Susanna had smoothed everything over with her sister, Annie, who seemed happy to see Susie smiling again. The closing on the house was near and soon the estate would be settled.
During the day, Quinn went over his lines, sometimes with Susanna cuing him and sometimes alone. When he was working out at the gym or studying his part, she sketched and cooked. She put them back on his strict diet so he would be the right weight for the camera. They took long walks through the park, still ate ice cream at the Broadway Creamery, just not as often, and made passionate love night after night.
Susanna put thoughts of the future out of her mind and focused on each day. She lost herself in her sketches, most of which were of Quinn. She drew him in jeans, in a suit, working out, asleep in bed, any way she could find him when he wasn’t looking. He was her favorite subject.
One night he came home with a gift. A big box of colored pencils, chalks, and a real sketchpad the size of letterhead to replace the skimpy little notebook she carried with her. She was thrilled, touched by his support of her art. Though she didn’t think she was much good, Quinn disagreed. Simply another quality she loved about him.
* * * *
While the reporters and cameras loved them, across town on the East side there was one person who definitely didn’t…Jaden Benedict. The runway-model-skinny author ground her teeth every morning over coffee when she opened her paper to see Quinn and Susanna out on the town, smiling, laughing, and dancing. He’s in love with her. Bitch!
Even if I sell him the book, it’s too late now. She’s got her hooks in him. Damn! She paced in her apartment and lit a cigarette. Her mind was working at a hundred miles an hour, searching for a plan. Nope. No way to get him now. She stubbed the cigarette out in disgust and flopped down on her black leather couch.
As she lay back against the cool material, her mind grabbed an idea. Slowly a smile crossed her lips. After snatching the paper off the coffee table for one more glance at the happy couple, jealousy overwhelmed her, flowing into her heart. With the cold taste of revenge in her mouth, Jaden picked up her phone.
* * * *
A muggy mid-August day didn’t slow Quinn down. He bounded out of bed at seven o’clock and turned on his laptop. Susanna rolled over and watched him.
“What’s up?”
“Checking to see if the money is in my account yet.” Today’s the day.
“What money?” She rubbed her eyes.
“The fifty grand. I’m getting a certified check to give to Jaden today.”
“You meeting her for lunch again?” Susanna propped herself up on her elbows.
Quinn’s gaze was drawn to her body immediately. “You’re distracting me.”
“Should I cover up?”
“Hell no!” He laughed. She got out of bed and slipped on her robe before padding to the window.
“Meeting her at Café Limoges again?”
“Yes.”
“Give me a ride. I’ll sit outside and sketch. There are some interesting flowers there.”
“Taking your big sketchbook or the dinky little one?” He picked up the small book she had left on the computer table and started thumbing through it. “Okay if I look through this?”
“It’s not private or anything.”
“You’ve got a bunch of drawings of me in here.”
“Are you surprised I find your body fascinating?” She stood behind his chair with her hands on his shoulders and leaned over to kiss his cheek.
“I’m flattered. As long as they stay in your possession, I’m good.”
“Oh? And you think I’d sell them to the media?” She padded into the kitchen to make coffee.
“Of course not, but if the book gets dropped on the street or something…”
“I’ll leave it here if you prefer.”
“No, no, take it if you need it. I trust you.” He handed the book back to her. “These are good.”
“Not really. They need work.” She popped the book into her purse.
At noon, Bobby and Quinn dropped Susanna at the Boat House where brilliant crimson geraniums were in bloom. Then Quinn got out near the restaurant and walked the rest of the way. His step had never been so light. A smile refused to leave his face as he shook hands with Jean Marc.
“The lady awaits you. Beware, M. Roberts. She does not look happy.”
Quinn turned to look at Jaden, and he had to agree with the head waiter. Uh oh. He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, but she pulled away.
“Hey, Jaden. What’s up?” Quinn turned puzzled eyes to her.
“Where’s your little girlfriend?” A sour expression pulled at her eyes and mouth.
“Susanna? Why would she be here? This is business. Besides, we’re not joined at the hip.”
“According to the media you are. When’s the wedding?”
“I have a certified check here for fifty grand.” He slipped the envelope containing the check out of his pocket and placed it on the table. “Are we doing business?”
“I can’t sell the book to you.”
Quinn’s mouth went dry. His pulse kicked up and sweat broke out on his forehead. “Why not?”
A nasty gleam came into her eye. “Because I sold it to someone else.”
“What? Why?” Quinn’s hand came down on the table hard, making the silverware jump, knocking
over an empty water glass.
“I thought we were an item. I thought we were going to go out, but then you had this chickie all along. You were banging her while keeping me on the string. That’s a no-no in my book, Quinn.”
“I never said we’d go out. In fact, I told you I don’t mix personal and business.”
“I hope your chickie can write. Because you’re not getting a book from this one.”
“Who’d you sell it to?”
“I can’t tell you that.” She avoided his gaze, shifting in her seat.
“Why not?” His stare bored into her.
“Because…just because you want to know.” An evil gleam of satisfaction glowed in her eyes.
“Come on, Jaden. You double-crossed me. At least tell me who’s got it.” Quinn tried unsuccessfully to keep desperation out of his voice.
“Why? So you can make a deal? Maybe pay more and get your hands on it?”
“What’s wrong with that? It’s business.” He fought to control his temper.
“He’ll never sell.” She sat back against the booth, a smile of satisfaction settled on her lips.
“Are you so sure? Who is it?” Sweat broke out in his palms. I have to get that book.
“You wanna know real bad, don’t you?” The teasing look on her face made him want to slap her.
“Damn right I do. You owe me at least that much.”
“I don’t owe you anything.” Anger flashed in her eyes.
Don’t make her mad, idiot. “Please, Jaden.” The role of beggar did not sit well with Quinn.
“Why not? You’ll find out in the trades anyway. I sold it to Max Webster.”
“The producer?”
“Yeah. He told me he’s already got a plan for it, too. And a leading man all picked out. So forget approaching him. Gotta run. Too bad, Quinn. See ya around.” Jaden slipped out from behind the table and left the restaurant.
Quinn’s emotions seesawed between fury and sadness. He dialed Bobby and left the restaurant, planning to walk home. Obsessed by his loss, Quinn forgot about Susanna sketching flowers in the park. He realized later she had waited for him for three hours before walking home.
“Quinn! What happened? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
He sat on the terrace with a half-empty bottle of Chivas Regal in one hand and an empty glass in the other. His gaze focused on the glass as he took his time pouring, so as not to spill. Susanna knelt down next to him, her hand on his knee. “What happened, honey?” She asked in a soft voice.
“Jaden Benedict…or should I call her Arnold Benedict or Benedict Arnold. Whatever…sold the book to someone else. A producer.”
“Is that bad? Can you call him and ask for the part?”
“She said he already has a leading man all picked out.” Quinn took a swig from the glass and placed the bottle on the table.
“You’ve had too much to drink. Let me get you to bed.” She tried to lift him up, but he pushed her away.
“I can walk by myself.” He stumbled to his feet.
“Did she say who bought it?”
“You wouldn’t know him. Big time producer. Max Webster.”
Susanna froze. Quinn turned to look at her. “Heard of him, have you?”
She nodded.
“How would you…no.”
She nodded again.
“Your friend, Max, in the park is Max Webster?”
She chewed her lip. “Maybe he’s a different Max Webster.”
“Doubt it. Did you tell…oh my God.” He stopped and looked at her. “You did! You told him. You told him about BLIND LOVE, didn’t you?” He leaned against the wall.
“I…I…I was only chatting with him. He was a friend, a father who needed an ear…” A flush stole up her neck and into her cheeks. Her fingers picked at a cuticle.
“No, he wasn’t. He was shrewd, crafty, Max Webster.” Quinn began to weave. “And you told him. Told him I wanted the book, didn’t you?”
She nodded, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
“Told him about all the trouble I was having finding a producer, didn’t you?”
She stood and looked at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She grasped the back of a chair for support.
“You told him everything…betrayed me. Led him right in to snatch this away.” His eyes grew cold.
“Please Quinn, I didn’t know who he was.” Tears began to run down her face.
“Don’t use your tears on me, you…Jezebel...traitor. You’re the Benedict Arnold.” He stumbled over a baby toy left unnoticed on the floor and kicked it against the wall. “Did he pay you?”
A look of horror came over her face.
“Maybe not. Still. You’re the reason I’ve lost my chance…and I didn’t date her because of you. Because I was in love with you.” He pointed a finger at her. A sob broke from Susanna’s throat.
“Don’t pretend you care. Not now. It’s too late now.” His chin quivered, and his voice broke. “I trusted you, and you betrayed me. You set me up.”
“No, no, I didn’t…I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know…I…I…”
“Did you ever care for me at all?” He looked at her with wide, wondering, hurt eyes.
“I loved you…I still do. Yes, I’ve loved you all along. If I had known, I never would’ve said anything. I…please you have to believe me.” Tears ran faster down her cheeks. She reached out to touch his forearm, but he yanked it away as if her fingertips were flames.
“He played you for a fool, didn’t he?”
“Yes, that bastard. When I get my hands on him…”
“The damage is done. He owns the book.”
“You’ll find another book, a better one, one you can sell to a producer.”
He shook his head. “I don’t have the heart for it now.” He chugged the rest of the scotch in the glass and stumbled against the wall.
“Let me help you get to bed…you’ve had too much…”
“Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me.” Tears in the corners of his eyes were blinked back. “If you get near me…I…I’ll fall under your spell again. I can’t resist you, but I can’t trust you. You’re poison. Stay away.” He put up his hand to stop her.
“I’m going to help you.” She stepped closer and reached for his arm, but he clamped his fingers around her arm like an iron vise. When she squealed in pain and tried to pull away, he let go immediately. She rubbed her arm. Quinn took it and kissed the place where his fingers had left an imprint.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’d never hurt you, but I can’t do this. Trust is gone. I’m done. Bed.” He staggered down the hall, bouncing off one wall and crashing into another.
“Please, Quinn, forgive me.” She followed along about three feet behind him.
“I can’t trust you anymore.” He staggered into the bedroom, flopped down on the bed, and passed out.
* * * *
Susanna stood in the bedroom doorway, shifting her weight from foot to foot, uncertain as to what to do. When she was sure he was unconscious, she tiptoed into the room. Removing his shoes and socks was easy. Undressing him down to his boxers was difficult. He was a dead weight, testing her strength. She retrieved a light blanket from her bedroom and draped it over him.
A sharp, stabbing pain pierced her heart. Throbbing at her temples and a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach weakened her. She sank to the floor to rest. Leaving seemed the only way to deal with this situation. He’ll never forgive me. Hell, I wouldn’t if I were him. Broken trust means it’s over.
Packing her belongings went quickly as she only took what she came with. Leaving behind the beautiful clothes, pencils, and sketchbooks he gave her was sad but seemed fitting. At least he can’t say I took anything from him. She closed the small suitcase then spied her tiny sketchbook on the nightstand. If I take that, he’ll think I’m selling those pictures to the media. Better leave it.
She flipped through the book one more time, stopping at her favorite
picture, the one of him half-naked, sleeping. After running her hand over the drawing, she knew she had to have it. I’m entitled to carry away at least one memory from this fairytale. She carefully ripped the page out of the book, hoping he wouldn’t notice it was gone. The page came out easily until the last part where a small tear left a few ragged edges peeking out. Shrugging her shoulders, she tucked the drawing into her suitcase and replaced the sketchbook on the night table before donning a big T-shirt.
Not wanting to surprise her sister, she sent a text.
Coming home tomorrow. No questions.
A bit worried about Quinn, Susanna peeked into his room. She couldn’t tell from the doorway if he was breathing, so she walked to the bed. He rolled over, reaching up, latching his arm around her waist, pulling her down next to him.
“Susie…Q…” he muttered, eyes still closed.
He spooned her, holding her tight against his chest. He planted a kiss on her neck before his fingers closed around her breast and his breathing became even again. She stared at the wall. One more night. I need it. She cuddled into his embrace and shut her eyes. The touch of his hands melted the pain in her heart enough so that sleep came.
Awakened by morning sunlight, Susanna glanced at the clock. Eight o’clock. Quinn’s breathing was even and deep. He had rolled away from her during the night, so she gently eased herself off the bed, trying not to disturb him. At the doorway, she turned her head for one last glimpse of the man she loved. The hurt from the night before came back, and she could hardly breathe. Go quickly before he wakes up.
She dressed quietly, grabbed a cup of coffee, and headed for the elevator. With a heavy sigh, she pressed the button, fighting the sadness in her heart. So many happy memories here.
“Leavin’, Miss?” Crash asked, his gaze settling for a moment on her suitcase. He cocked an eyebrow at her.
Too choked up to speak, she nodded.
“Does Mr. Quinn know?”
She shook her head.
“Uh oh. He’s not going to like that.”
Red Carpet Romance Page 18
