This Is True Love (Exclusive! #1)

by Jamie Wesley

  Her bones liquefied in pure lust under his touch. Thank God he was there to hold her up. To drive her closer to the edge. His mouth skimmed up her chest to her neck, nipping her skin, driving her crazy. She wanted to return the favor. She swept her hands up his shirt, delighting in the rippling of his torso’s muscles. “You feel so good.”

  Alex froze. His hands, his mouth, everything stiffened. “I can’t do this.”

  The statement, though muttered, stabbed into her heart like a blade sharpened to the finest edge.

  Her eyes flew to his. Resignation, confusion, but most of all, determination greeted her.

  “What are you talking about? You were with me the whole time. You’re still holding me.” She winced at the unmistakable wobble in her voice.

  He stepped back. Away from her. “I’m sorry. I let things go too far, but it’s not fair to you. You’re feeling vulnerable.”

  Was he serious? Fury surged through her. She bridged the space between them in one quick stride and poked him hard in the chest. “Don’t you dare speak for me. I know what I want. Can you say the same?”

  He scrubbed his right hand across his face. “It…doesn’t matter. Crescendo. Me and Keith. Stuff from the past. It’s too complicated. I shouldn’t have gone there with you.”

  The little she knew about Alex’s childhood came to her in a rush. How Keith had befriended him when they were kids and asked his parents if Alex could come live with them because of Alex’s unstable home life. A childhood Alex hated talking about. She’d respected his wishes earlier and not pushed him to discuss it because she knew his upbringing hadn’t been easy, but Alex had risen above his past a million times over. It made no sense for him to keep using Keith’s act of goodwill as an excuse, especially knowing the type of person Keith had become. Apparently, the bond the two men shared was too strong to break.

  She pulled the edges of her shirt together, needing to do something to protect herself from the cold that had seeped into her bones.

  What a fool she was. He said it was complicated. Not that complicated. “Bros before hos, is that it?”

  Alex flinched. Well, too damn bad if her blunt language was too much for him. Latching on to anger felt better than allowing the hurt hurtling through her body to consume her. She swung her gaze away from him and stared at the wall, concentrating fiercely on a spot where the cream paint had chipped.

  “Fliss…look at me.”

  She didn’t move. She didn’t dare. Not if she wanted to survive this humiliating experience without breaking into a million pieces.

  “Please.”

  She wanted to ignore the pleading note in his voice but couldn’t. She met his eyes and forcibly steeled herself against the swirling intensity she saw there.

  “We’ve both admitted we misjudged each other,” he said. “We have to work together. I’d like for us to be friends.”

  “Friends?” Her voice came out incredulous. Again—was he serious? Had he lost his mind? He wanted to be friends after everything they’d done—twice now?

  “Yes.” His tone remained steady. His gaze, too.

  “Fine,” she answered as calmly as she could, curling one hand into a fist, her fingernails digging into her palm. She welcomed the discomfort. It gave her something to concentrate on rather than her tattered emotions. “Whatever you say. I think it’s time for you to go.” She really needed him to leave before she lost it.

  “Fliss…”

  “Just go.” Her eyes stung, but she wouldn’t cry in front of him. She’d already made the mistake of making herself vulnerable to him, only to have him reject her. No need to embarrass herself further.

  He didn’t move for what seemed like forever, but finally, his shoes clicked on the floor tiles as he walked away from her. The faint closing of the front door came next. A few seconds later, a car engine started. Only then did she sag against the wall and drag in a much-needed breath.

  He wanted to be friends? That’s what people said to someone they were trying to let down easily.

  The truth was he didn’t want her. Again.

  The truth was she’d been rejected. Again.

  She’d never forget walking into her bedroom to find her ex-husband in bed with another woman. She’d demanded to know how long his cheating had been going on. Was this the first time? How many other women had there been? She didn’t know why she’d needed a number, but she had. He’d said it was the only time, that he loved her and wanted to do right by her and make the marriage work. She’d wanted to believe him.

  How could she not?

  Her parents had never made her feel loved. Not really. They’d never had time or patience or desire to show or accept love from their only child. Not when there were meetings to attend, fights to have, silent treatments to engage in. Roberta had been the only steady loving influence in her life.

  She’d had boyfriends. Typical teen romances that ended due to immaturity on either her or her boyfriend’s part. As she’d gotten older, she’d craved something deeper. A need that led to choosing the wrong guys. The worst ones had trampled all over her generosity, simply leaving and telling her they’d found someone else.

  Still, she’d picked herself up and continued to hope. All she’d ever wanted was to find someone who saw her for who she really was inside and not just the person who posed for magazine covers and starred in movies. Who loved her as much as she loved him. Was that asking too much?

  Keith was supposed to be her family, the one who offered emotional support, the one who would accept and appreciate the love that flowed so freely through her veins. How could she not believe he’d give her that? During their whirlwind courtship and even after they’d married, he’d said all the right things. Done all the right things. Or so she’d believed until she’d found him moaning another woman’s name.

  They’d gone to counseling. But even as they’d talked to a therapist, as Keith cried the tears only a truly talented actor could produce, she could only think about how his behavior over the last few months now made sense. He’d been aloof with her, rejecting her advances more often than not, claiming he was tired from shooting his movie. She’d tried not to take the rejection personally, but the truth had hit her square in the face when she’d caught him. He didn’t need his wife to satisfy him when someone else was doing it.

  But she’d put her devastation aside and tried to save her marriage. Tried to believe him when he’d said it wouldn’t happen again. Tried to make him interested in her again by turning into some type of sex goddess.

  But it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t interested in saving the marriage or remaining faithful. He wasn’t interested in her. Eventually she’d admitted to herself that she’d been trying to save the marriage because she didn’t want to fail, not because the marriage was worth saving. She’d wondered if he’d ever been who she’d thought he was.

  Tonight with Alex… God, she was so stupid. She’d been willing to toss aside her resolution not to get involved with yet another man who didn’t really want her because she’d thought the camaraderie she’d shared with him was real. That the moment in the parking lot was real. That the moments when his mouth and hands were on her were real. Wrong again.

  Her chest seized as pain grabbed hold of her insides and twisted.

  When would she realize going with what felt real didn’t make it so and believing it was real only led her down a path of pain and embarrassment? She and Alex didn’t even get along most of the time, so what made her think he was genuinely interested in her? He’d proven—again—that he wasn’t.

  How was she going to face him tomorrow?

  Her lips parted in a silent groan. Oh, God. They had a business meeting with Phillip Mansfield tomorrow. She didn’t have a choice.

  ***

  Alex rubbed the back of his neck and stared at Fliss’s office door. He raised his fist to knock, but dropped his hand to his side before he completed the motion. What was he going to say? How was he going to act? Fuck. He sounded like a teenag
e boy working up the nerve to ask his crush out on a date. He hadn’t been this nervous in forever. Then again, he hadn’t done something as stupid as kissing Fliss after vowing to never do it again in forever, so it only made sense.

  How could he have let things go so far?

  Stupid, stupid question.

  He’d been so sure of the control he exerted over himself. Maintaining control had never been a problem, even growing up in a place where a lot of kids got involved in drugs or gangs. In the face of peer pressure and despite the temptation of money or oblivion from a horrible situation, he’d always been able to stand his ground and say no, knowing better things awaited him. Only with Fliss did he have so little command over himself. He’d played with fire and gotten incinerated. And upset a woman who’d already been hurt enough.

  Fliss deserved someone better than him anyway.

  An image of her staring up at him, arousal stamped on her face, rose in his mind unbidden. She’d tasted so good. Like heaven. Desire had crashed over him like a tidal wave, drowning out his common sense. All he could do was act. And feel. Everything.

  No. Not going there again.

  Alex forcefully shook the unnerving thoughts out of his head. No point in continuing to obsess over what had happened. Not now anyway. They had a project to acquire. At least they could agree on that. Even if they’d tiptoed around each other throughout the day.

  Damn it. He’d known working with Fliss would lead to nothing but trouble.

  Something had to give and soon.

  But first things first. He had to face her like the adult he claimed to be.

  Alex knocked. The door flew open a few seconds later.

  “Fliss.” He greedily took her in like he hadn’t seen her at all that day. He immediately zeroed in on her lips covered in the red gloss she loved so much. It took him a second to realize she was talking. He dragged his gaze up.

  “Alex, hi.” Her eyes shone with excitement, her smile was bright. “Ready to go?”

  Shock rendered him mute. No, he didn’t expect her eyes to be red and puffy from crying or for them to be shooting daggers into him. But she was acting a lot more Fliss-like than she had earlier in the day. Like last night hadn’t happened. “Uh, yeah,” he managed to get out.

  “Let’s go then.” She looked at him expectedly.

  He snapped to attention. “Right.”

  They made their way to the front door. The others had already left for the day, wishing them good luck on their way out. In his SUV, he glanced over before starting the engine. She stared out the passenger-side window. His eyes greedily traced her profile. Sheer perfection from the curve of her smooth forehead to the soft line of her nose to the full lips he’d dreamed about last night.

  He cleared his throat. “Are you ready to win over Mansfield?”

  “Absolutely.” She hit him with another bright grin.

  Prepared for it this time, he stared deep into her eyes and recognized the unease she was trying her damnedest to hide. He sighed. He had no clue how to handle the situation, but he had to try. Time to man up. “Are we going to talk about last night?”

  Fliss broke eye contact and stared out the window again. Her shoulders slumped, like it was too much effort for her to maintain her cheery façade. “What’s there to talk about? I threw myself at you, you caught me and threw me back in the water when you figured out I wasn’t the fish you wanted after all. Seems pretty cut and dried to me.”

  He winced at her brittle tone. Business he could handle, having a plan to accomplish his goals, but this—dealing with messy emotions—had never been his strong suit. He’d shut them off at a young age. He’d had no choice. “I put you in a bad position. I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize.” Fliss faced him again, but now all he spied in her expression was distant politeness. “Actually, you did me a favor,” she said, the natural cheerfulness he’d started to appreciate noticeably absent. “I’d decided not to rush into anything new after the divorce because I wanted to concentrate on my career. I lost my head there for a minute. As you’re always saying, I’m too impulsive for my own good. But no more. And we don’t make any sense, so thank you.”

  “Oh.” Though they shouldn’t, her words stung. More than he’d ever thought they could. It was his turn to break eye contact. He looked out the windshield. “Good to know we’re on the same page.”

  He started the car and exited the parking lot, gripping the steering wheel so hard the stitches bit into his palms. Get your head in the game. Business needed to come first today. If everything went according to plan, the next two hours would change the course of Crescendo in the best possible way.

  Twenty minutes later, Alex pulled up in front of The Ivy and sighed in relief that the tension-fraught ride was over. From the outside, the restaurant didn’t look like much. A white cottage with a white picket fence, it resembled someone’s fantasy of the perfect country home, but some of Hollywood’s biggest deals had been brokered here. Its clientele was a who’s who of Hollywood’s elite. Actors, agents, directors, anyone who wanted to be seen made it a point to dine at The Ivy.

  He got out of the Range Rover and handed the keys to the valet. Then he walked around and grasped Fliss’s elbow as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. The valet drove off, putting her in direct view of the street.

  The sound of camera shutters clicking went into overdrive. Shouted questions and demands made their way across the street to them. Hey, Felicity, look over here! What are you doing at The Ivy? Why did you come out of hiding?

  Alex sneaked a peek behind him. Three or four photographers yelled and clicked away, obviously thrilled to catch an unexpected glimpse of the newly single movie star. He exchanged a glance with Fliss.

  “I’m fine,” she said. She shrugged in resignation but otherwise seemed unruffled. He should’ve known she would be. She’d proven over and over that she was as tough as they came. He told the stupid voice in his head asking why he was so worried about her to shut up. She’d been through a lot. He’d be a first-class ass, especially after her display in his office yesterday, if he wasn’t concerned. That’s all it was.

  They made their way to the reservation stand. As the host escorted them to a corner table on the patio, conversations didn’t halt. The restaurant’s patrons were much too sophisticated for such obvious behavior, but they didn’t have a problem staring. Fliss’s back tensed against his guiding hand, but her stride didn’t falter. Neither did her composed facial expression. Not even when they spotted Mansfield waiting for them.

  He could only hope he gave off the same unruffled vibe. Although he was as prepared as he could be, Alex’s nerves were jangling. This project was special to him, no doubt about it, and he wanted everything to go smoothly.

  Fliss sent him a reassuring smile. He chose not to examine too closely why her support soothed his nerves. Instead, he squared his shoulders and strode forward to shake Mansfield’s hand. The man, whose eightieth birthday had come and gone some time ago, surprised Alex with his strong grip. Alex took a closer look. Mansfield’s posture was straight, his chest burly, his brown eyes clear. His full head of hair was pure white, his smooth walnut-colored skin only marred with a few lines. A full mustache matched his hair color.

  “Mr. Mansfield, thank you for inviting us today,” Alex said.

  “I didn’t do it for you, son. I know you’ve been trying to get at me for a long time.” Then he practically shoved Alex out of the way and opened his arms wide. “Fliss, my dear. It’s been too long.”

  Fliss? Only her family and friends called her that. Most people in the industry stuck to calling her Felicity. A spurt of what felt uncomfortably like jealousy zinged through Alex. Irrational and stupid. He wasn’t involved with Fliss, nor would he be. Still, he couldn’t stop his lips from pressing into a tight line as she stepped into Mansfield’s embrace without hesitation.

  “It hasn’t been that long, has it?” She graced Mansfield with a sweet smile.

  “Si
nce the Golden Globes when we went for The Love of Money,” Mansfield said.

  Fliss wrinkled her nose. “Oh, yeah. How could I forget? We didn’t win.”

  She’d been nominated for lead actress in the comedy/musical category, and the movie’s theme song, which Mansfield had written and produced, had been nominated for best original song, Alex recalled.

  Mansfield snorted. “Oh, what do those Foreign Press people know? That movie made over one hundred fifty million dollars at the box office.”

  They both chuckled. Fliss held out a brightly wrapped package. “Before I forget, we brought you a gift.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “It’s a small token of our appreciation for you agreeing to meet with us.”

  “Then I’ll happily accept.” Mansfield took the small box and unwrapped it. Hearty laughter burst from him when he spied the contents. “Peanut M&Ms. I love it.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Alex said.

  Fliss turned to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to monopolize the conversation.”

  “It’s okay,” he answered, proud he sounded calm and reasonable. He was always, always reasonable. “You’re catching up with an old friend.”

  “But you came here for a reason, son, so let’s get to it,” Mansfield said in his commanding Chicago accent. He waved Fliss into one of the chairs at the round table and then settled into another. Alex sat in the only remaining chair. The table’s umbrella offered some welcome relief from the sun and, hopefully, the photographers camped out across the street.

  “You’re right, sir. I’ve been trying to get to you, as you said,” Alex said, ending on a slight chuckle. “Crescendo Productions would welcome the opportunity to tell your wife’s story.” He went into his spiel that focused on Crescendo’s successes and his vision for the movie. He mentioned the big budget and his plans to make Farrah Blake a bigger legend than she already was, stopping only briefly to allow the waiter to drop off menus and deliver water.