by Jamie Wesley
Oh, God. She had to go back out there. She couldn’t procrastinate any longer. Well, she could, but that would only delay the inevitable.
When she opened the door, she gulped. Alex sat on the bed facing the bathroom. Facing her.
At least he’d put on some clothes. But he still looked too good for her peace of mind. Disheveled. Stubble covering his strong jaw. Dark chocolate eyes that were worthy of drowning in focused on her.
They stared at each other while silence stretched for an eternity. His face gave nothing away. His eyes dropped to her waist, where she was twisting her hands. She dropped them to her sides.
He stood and paced in front of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck.
The awkward silence only got more awkward. She couldn’t stand it any longer. “Do you want to talk about what happened? With your father, I mean?”
He stopped pacing. “No.” Stark. Final.
She swallowed. “Okay.”
“I apologize for coming on to you,” he said stiffly.
“Don’t,” she replied just as stiffly. “You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do.” She paused. “Besides, I get it. You needed the human contact.”
Dark, fathomless eyes peered at her. “I meant what I said. I did want you. I’m not going to lie about that. There’s no point.”
She nodded. She’d wanted him just as much. Still did. “Where do we go from here?”
He grabbed the back of his neck. “Damn it, Fliss, you know this is complicated.”
“I know.” Even if she could get past her hang-ups, even if they decided to thumb their noses at anyone who would look askance at their relationship, even if they chose to ignore how a personal relationship complicated their already tenuous professional relationship, even if by some miracle they managed all of that, still…
The specter of her ex loomed large between them.
“Where does that leave us?” She forced the question past a tight throat.
“We have no choice—”
“But to be business partners and friends.” It took a colossal effort to force her lips upward.
Alex looked away for a second. “Right. I don’t want things—”
“To be awkward. Yep, got it. Me, either.” Her throat tightened some more. “I should go.”
“Fliss.” He reached out with his hand, like he wanted to offer comfort. She tensed, but he dropped his hand to his side before he made contact. He nodded. “Okay.”
She hurried to the door and paused with her hand on the knob, but he didn’t say anything else. She walked out with her head held high. An actor to the bitter end.
***
Less than forty-eight hours later—Shit, was that all the time that had passed?—Alex heard the door open behind him. He didn’t turn around to see who’d come in. No need. He knew by the scent of strawberries that drifted through the air. He knew by the way his skin prickled with awareness. By the way his heart picked up speed.
Fliss.
I need you. Only you.
Had he really said that? He who never revealed his emotions because nothing good came of it? He who always kept his head down and worked toward the next goal, so he had no time to think about the past? So he could prove he wasn’t the worthless piece of crap who couldn’t succeed on his own like his father claimed he was? He didn’t let people in. He didn’t need anyone.
And yet he’d told Fliss he needed her.
He’d said he didn’t want to think, and he hadn’t. Instead, he’d reveled in the intense feelings coursing through him, and the words had come tumbling out. He didn’t mean them. He couldn’t. He hadn’t accomplished his goals. He didn’t have time for distractions or have anything real to offer her. Leaving their encounter as a one-night stand was the only option. And she’d agreed.
The plane ride home had been excruciating. At least they’d been sitting across the aisle from each other, so they could pretend the plane noise and lack of privacy made it hard to talk.
Like he’d done on the plane, he focused on his computer screen and the video playing. Too bad he heard and saw nothing. His concentration was shot to hell, and it was all because of her. Exactly like the plane ride.
“Are you just going to stand there?” he asked without turning around. He tensed when he heard her moving toward him, only looking up when she stopped next to him.
“I didn’t think you’d noticed that I’d come in.” She hesitated, then sat in the chair next to him.
Like there was a chance in hell of that happening.
He paused the video. “I noticed. How can I help you?”
She jerked her head toward the screen. “How’s it going?”
His eyes drifted down to her lap, where her hands were fidgeting. Even though she sounded sure, she was nervous. He’d lost control and taken the relationship somewhere it never should have gone. Now things were weird between them and it was all his fault. But she’d come in anyway because that’s who Fliss was. Someone who met adversity head on. She was here because they co-owned a company and had business to attend to. The awkwardness would have to be ignored. He shifted to face the screen. “Good. I’m trying to figure out where to go next.”
“What do you have so far?”
“I started with a quote from Sue, then segued into Rachel calling Farrah sweet but spoiled, then I moved to a wide shot of all the women laughing.” He hit play, and they watched in silence.
“I like it,” Fliss said when it was over.
A ping of pleasure hit near his heart. When had her opinion come to mean so much to him? “You do?”
“I do.” Again with the unwavering belief in his abilities despite everything that had happened.
“Thanks,” he said. “You were right, by the way. They did give us a ton of stuff to work with.”
A smile, small but genuine, was his reward. “Told you.”
“You did.”
Her smile stretched wider, sending his heart racing. Making him remember how good, how natural it had been between them.
“Fliss?”
“Yes?”
What was he going to say? He couldn’t remember. Something in her eyes drew him closer. Her lips parted, like she was finding it hard to breathe. His gaze snagged on that bottom lip that always drove him crazy. He wanted to tug on it, hear her moan as he did so. Her breaths came faster, lighting a torch to his desire. He inched closer, his gaze laser-focused.
The door creaked open. They sprang apart and whirled toward the entrance.
Pete stood there, his eyebrows lifted. “Am I interrupting something?”
Alex frowned. “No. How can I help you?”
Pete moved in a few steps and held out an oversized envelope. “This came in the mail. Thought you might want to see it. Look who sent it.”
Alex took the cream envelope from him. Phillip Mansfield’s name and address were handwritten in a flowing script in the upper left-hand corner. The envelope was addressed to both Fliss and him. He ripped it open and tugged out the lone piece of cardstock inside.
“Phillip Mansfield and his two children, Stephen and Christina, cordially invite you and your staff to a gala to announce the production company selected to make the movie about their beloved wife and mother, Farrah Blake,” he read out loud.
“When’s the party?” Fliss asked.
“Next Saturday.”
Her eyes opened wide. “We have to get the documentary to him before then.”
Determination and competitiveness thrummed through Alex’s veins. “Time to get to work.”
***
The soft swish of silk alerted Alex to the fact that he was no longer alone. He turned and stared, speechless at the vision in front of him.
“Well?” Fliss inquired politely. She finished descending the stairs and turned in a circle. “What do you think?”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He wasn’t worthy of her. Never had been. Never would be.
She moved closer, her eyebrows drawing together. �
��Alex?”
People magazine had gotten it right. She was the most beautiful person in the world.
The strapless dress hugged a flawless figure from her mouthwatering breasts to the waist he knew fit perfectly between his hands to the gentle swell of her hips. A slit in the dress displayed a shapely leg to maximum advantage. The purple silk perfectly complemented her luminous cinnamon skin. Her black hair, falling past her shoulders in gentle waves, shone. Scarlet-red lipstick drew his eyes to her luscious mouth. Tempting. Irresistible. But she didn’t belong to him. And he was okay with that. He was? Yes, yes, he was. Because it was too messy. Because she distracted him from his goals. Making Crescendo as successful as he could make it. Yeah, that was it.
He stepped back. “You look beautiful. But you knew that already.” How could she not?
Fliss let out a slight chuckle. “Thanks. I think. Credit goes to my glam squad, though. They outdid themselves this time.”
“No, it’s all you.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Her smile spread. “That’s more like it. I knew you had it in you to give me a genuine compliment.”
“I try.” His lips curved upward. The awkwardness between them had abated slightly as they’d worked on the documentary, but the reality of what they’d done, said, still loomed between them like a living, breathing entity. “Ready?”
“Yes. Let’s do this.” She made a move toward the front door, then stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Before I forget, you look pretty fantastic yourself,” she said, running her gaze up and down his body.
He felt the look like she’d actually caressed him. A vision of her sliding her small hands down his torso rose in his mind. His body tightened in arousal. He tugged on the sleeves of his jacket in a pathetic attempt to distract himself.
“Thank you,” he said after a moment. He’d learned long ago that a tuxedo was an essential part of a wardrobe for a man working in Hollywood. The suit was classic, nothing fancy other than the designer name on the label. “What can I say? I rock Tom Ford.”
A soft smile tugged at her red lips. “Indeed.”
They exited her house and greeted the waiting limo driver, Carl. The driver tipped his cap and opened the car door. Alex gave himself a mental pat on the back for not groaning out loud when Fliss’s dress pulled tight across her rounded ass as she climbed into the vehicle. He went in after her and relaxed against the plush leather seat. Carl closed the door. A few seconds later, they were on their way to the biggest night of his professional life.
“The fact that he invited us has to mean he chose us, right?” Fliss asked, tapping her fingers on her thigh.
“Fliss.” He captured her hand. Alarms rang in his head. Mistake, mistake! Touching her was the height of stupidity. The urge to squeeze her hand, to caress the spot on her wrist where her pulse drummed, to kiss it nearly killed him. He oh-so-casually moved his hand away. “We’ve been through this. No, it doesn’t. We confirmed that he also invited several other production companies. No one knows who he chose.”
She flopped against the seat with a huff. “You and your facts. Always so calm and rational. You’re such a party pooper.”
Alex chuckled. If only it were that simple. He projected calm and rationality because the alternative—locking Mansfield in a room until he gave Alex the answer he wanted—wasn’t a viable option. So he settled back for the short ride to Phillip Mansfield’s residence and ordered himself to remain calm and rational.
For the thousandth time, he reminded himself that Crescendo had as good a chance as any company. Two weeks ago, he wouldn’t have been sure, but that was before they’d filmed their mini-documentary. He was proud of the short film. It had heart and honesty—exactly the vibe he intended the movie to have—but he had no idea if Mansfield felt the same way. How could he? They’d sent the piece to Mansfield but hadn’t heard anything in return.
Alex raised his jacket sleeve and checked his watch. Less than two hours before they would know their fate. Two hours he would spend mingling and pretending he wasn’t counting down the minutes to the announcement.
Two hours he would spend with the woman sitting next to him, pretending he didn’t want her with every fiber of his being.
Fun.
***
When the limo pulled through the gates of Mansfield’s estate, Fliss looked out the car window in amazement. Phillip had gone all out, setting up a movie-premiere-style red carpet. They exited the limo and stopped midway down the carpet to allow the gathered photographers to take photos of Crescendo’s co-owners.
Alex stepped aside, and she moved effortlessly into the role of Felicity Chambers, movie star. She struck several poses, showing off every angle of the designer dress. Her smile was brilliant, her laughter at the compliments thrown her way meant to enchant. After the photographers took enough photos to fill three gossip magazines, Fliss marched toward the house next to Alex.
“How does it feel to be a free woman, Felicity? Expect to see your ex-husband tonight?” one of the photographers called out.
She kept the smile plastered on her face. Her stride didn’t falter, but the butterflies in her stomach, which she’d mostly managed to keep under control, broke free and started performing their favorite triple somersaults. While she was nervous about Crescendo’s chances tonight, she was also concerned about something else that awaited her inside. Media. Maybe lots and lots of media.
She’d turned down all requests for interviews since her divorce had been finalized because she didn’t want to talk about it. She’d lived it. Why in the world would she want to revisit it?
Alex placed his hand at the small of her back. “Hey, are you okay?” he whispered in her ear.
Caring Alex had made a return. It was no longer a surprise. Yes, she was okay. She’d become stronger and more confident in her sense of self over the past few weeks. Getting involved with Crescendo had been the right move no matter what happened between her and Alex. She could handle whatever came her way. “Sure am.”
With that newfound resolve, she allowed Alex to escort her into Mansfield’s home. Phillip lived in the posh Holmby Hills neighborhood. If she had to guess, she’d say the French chateau-style residence easily topped twenty-five thousand square feet.
They followed a procession of people down a hall. She recognized a Monet on the wall. Her heels click-clacked on marble floors. Lovely. Tasteful. Expensive.
Murmurs and music increased in volume as they approached the ballroom. They stepped into the room and Fliss halted. Wow. A veritable who’s who of Hollywood packed the room. Grammy, Emmy, and Oscar winners. Actors, directors, writers, singers, and producers. No reporters, but she had no doubt they’d appear like vultures ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. The magnitude of the evening hit her in a rush. Nerves erupted anew inside her.
“Breathe,” she whispered to herself. Crescendo’s success, her success, didn’t hinge on acquiring this project. But she wanted it so very badly. All the hours and effort she and Alex had put in had to pay off. She tore her eyes away from the masses of people and looked around.
A massive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room. The cherrywood floor shone. Off to the side, tables with blinding white tablecloths and crystal centerpieces offered places to rest. At the end of the room, a large stage was set up. Two large screens flanking the stage played a slideshow of photos of Farrah at her most glamorous.
“Do you see Phillip?” she asked.
Alex scanned the crowd. “No, but it’s crowded.”
“True, but if he were here, he’d be holding court. He’s probably waiting to make a grand entrance.”
“Probably.”
A waiter wearing a uniform of a well-fitted black jacket and pants sidled up to them. He extended a silver tray in his hand. “Would you care for some champagne, Ms. Chambers and Mr. Graham?”
“Don’t mind if we do. Thanks.” Alex grabbed two flutes and handed one to her. She didn’t hesit
ate in tipping her head back and taking a hefty swallow.
Alex grinned. “Easy there.”
“This is insane,” she hissed. She pressed her free hand to her stomach, hoping to calm the overactive butterflies.
“You know Mansfield has never met a spectacle he didn’t like. Making a huge to-do about the movie celebrating his wife’s life certainly qualifies.”
“I guess. I was doing okay on the way here, but now… Oh, my God.”
“Relax. You’re a movie star, remember?” he teased.
“Not tonight, I’m not. I’m a producer hoping to get asked to prom. Pick me, pick me.”
He shot her a side-eyed glance. “I’m sure you had more offers than you knew what to do with.”
Fliss’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Maybe.”
A man walked up and slapped Alex on the back. “Alex, long time no see.”
Alex turned. “Evan, how are you doing?”
The middle-aged blond, who stood a few inches shorter than Alex, shook his proffered hand. “Good. How about you?”
“Can’t complain. Evan, have you met my business partner, Felicity Chambers?”
“No, I’ve never had the pleasure.”
She stepped forward and shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Fliss, this is Evan Turner. He produces The Ties that Bind.”
“I love that show,” she said.
“As do I,” said a sultry voice from behind Fliss.
Evan held out his arm and tucked a stunning redhead, who looked to be at least twenty years his junior, into his side. “Alex, Felicity, please meet my wife, Dana.”
Fliss held out a hand. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”
Dana took it in a dainty handshake. “Likewise. I heard the two of you were working together.” Unbridled curiosity dominated her voice and expression.
“Yes, it’s been great.”
“So you’re in a good place?” Evan interjected with a little too much glee in his voice and eyes.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Fliss refused to let her smile slip. Apparently, reporters weren’t the only ones she had to worry about asking personal questions.
