“Hey, if you came and stayed with us, you could go to industry parties whenever you wanted.”
“The thought has crossed my mind,” I said, rolling my eyes. And it had, many times. Not just the possibility of industry parties, which Lizzie often tried to get out of, claiming them to be boring. But the possibility of seeing a certain industry superstar. One who kept showing up on my TV screen.
“You can ask me,” she said, and I could just picture her rolling her eyes.
Damn her for knowing me so well.
“Was he there?”
“Was Jackson there? The star of the entire Darkness franchise? Yes, Sofie. Jackson Coles was at the Darkness wrap party.”
I closed my eyes, picturing his face. Those icy blue eyes of his, the way they turned a darker cobalt in the seconds before he kissed me—
“How did he look?” I asked, my throat feeling distinctly dry. “He looked good, didn’t he?”
Lizzie paused. “He looked okay.”
Something in my chest seemed to fall down in the direction of my lap. “He was with someone, wasn’t he?”
“What? No! Come on, do you think I would have brought him up if he was there with some bimbo?”
My relief was so strong, I had to close my eyes. “No bimbos?”
“No bimbos.”
“Then why did you pause? When I asked how he looked?”
“He was just… I don’t know. He seems sad lately.”
My heart clenched at the thought. Jackson, sad. I didn’t like it.
“Why do you think he was sad?”
“I don’t know, Sof. He just wasn’t himself, I guess. It’s been like that for a while, whenever I see him.”
“Is he okay? You should have him over. He likes you guys, Lizzie. He really respects you.” I could hear myself babbling, but I couldn’t seem to stop. The idea of a sad Jackson, alone and so far away, was too much, somehow.
“He’s not here,” she interrupted. “In London, I mean. Thomas said he left after the party.”
“Oh.” I wondered where he had gone. Los Angeles, for work? Or maybe a vacation, to celebrate wrapping the movie. Again, I pictured him with some girl, this time on the beach, and I felt distinctly nauseated.
Of course, at that moment, the damn commercial for the late show came on again, flashing Jackson’s smiling face on the screen. “He’s in New York,” I said aloud, as realization dawned. “He’s going to be on Letterman tonight. I’m watching the commercial for it right now.”
I paused, staring at the clip, Jackson’s face filling my screen. He was dressed down, looking impossibly cool and stylish in a dark, slim-cut blazer over a white T-shirt bearing the logo of some band I couldn’t make out. His hair was a little shorter than it had been when I ran my fingers through it, a little darker blond than it had been at Christmas. He was tanner than the last time I had seen him, and I wondered again about beaches and supermodels. He was laughing about something, his face animated, waving his hands around. He certainly didn’t look sad.
He looked freaking amazing, to be honest.
“It’s so weird,” I muttered, more to myself than to Lizzie. “To be talking about him and then to see his face on my TV.”
“I’ve been married to a movie star for months now, and I still can’t get over how weird that is,” she muttered. “Seeing his face on TV.”
I balanced the phone between my shoulder and my ear so I could reach for the remote. I pressed pause and the screen froze right on Jackson’s face. He was smiling, a strand of blond hair falling down over his eyes. So freaking beautiful.
At that moment, there was a knock on the door. I tensed, looking down at Beth. I had insisted my dad cover the doorbell with tape when I brought her home, tired of having her naps interrupted by cable service salesmen and Girl Scout cookie pushers. But sitting in the living room, even a knock could be loud enough to wake her.
“There’s someone at the door,” I told Lizzie. “I should get it before the knocking wakes her up.”
“Okay. Call me later.”
“I will.”
I hung up the phone right as the knock came again. I slipped Beth into the rocking bassinet in front of the couch and padded over to the door, prepared to send whoever it was away with my scary haven’t-showered-in-two-days crazy hair. I yanked on the handle, raising my hand to my lips to shush whoever it was before they could start yammering and risk waking the baby.
But my finger never made it to my lips. Instead, it froze in mid-air as I stared out at the porch in shock, unable to do more than open and close my mouth, mute.
Jackson Coles was standing on my porch, looking every bit as gorgeous as he had in the commercial. But this time, that thousand-mega-watt smile wasn’t directed at the cameras. It was directed at me.
Chapter Two
Why didn’t I take a shower? Why, why didn’t I take a shower? Jackson Coles was standing on my porch—my porch!—looking as gorgeous as I had ever seen him, hair literally glinting in the sunlight. And there I was, dressed in yoga pants and a tank top, my hair a dirty, frizzy mess, my face unwashed and makeup-free. Oh God. I probably had baby spit up on me somewhere. Why didn’t I take a shower?
“Sofie?” he asked, ducking his head down a little to gaze into my eyes. “Are you all right?”
It was only then that I realized I was staring at him, open mouthed, and that I hadn’t said a word. How long had I been gaping at him? What must I look like?
“Jackson,” I squeaked out, my voice high pitched and strange. I cleared my throat. “What are you doing here?”
He winked—God, that wink—and his smile grew a fraction. “Can’t an old friend stop by for a visit?”
I had no idea how to respond to that, seeing as how the sum total of our friendship was a make-out session at my cousin’s wedding and a slightly strained reunion at Christmas—a reunion that was inconveniently interrupted by me going into labor in the kitchen.
“Sofie?” he asked again, smile faltering now. “I’m sorry, I should have called—”
“No, it’s fine,” I said quickly, trying to pull it together. “You just surprised me, that’s all.”
His resulting smile was so relieved, it made my chest constrict a little. That was enough to snap me out of my shock. I took a step back, opening the door wider. “Come in, sorry. It must be cold out there.”
He followed me into the house, and only then did I remember the sleeping baby. I silently begged her to respect the code of sisterhood and not wake up when the hot man was here. “One minute,” I whispered, reaching for her. “I’ll just take her upstairs—”
“Can I see her?” he asked, placing a hand on my arm to stop me. I shivered under his touch on my bare skin, fighting my body’s urge to lean into him.
“Sure,” I whispered back, my voice shaky. He leaned over my shoulder—too close, he was way too close, and he smelled freaking fantastic—to peer down at her.
“Sofie,” he murmured, his voice washing over me. He almost sounded awed. “She’s gorgeous.”
“She’s not bad, is she?” Even I could hear the pride in my voice, and he looked over at me, his face close enough to touch.
“She’s perfect. She has your eyelashes.”
“And my hair.” I fingered a curly strand of my own hair. “Poor thing.”
“I don’t know.” Jackson’s eyes flickered across my head, and I tensed, remembering the whole no-shower issue. But he only continued to smile. “I’d say she’s pretty lucky there, too.”
Feeling completely overwhelmed by his sudden appearance, by the nearness of him, by the sheer wattage of his famous smile, I took a small step away, trying to breathe through the wave of near-hysteria that I could feel building. I felt a little out of control this close to him, and I couldn’t help but remember the time we had nearly ruined all of Lizzie’s wedding presents in our botched make-out attempt. I pictured my mom coming home to a broken television, a casualty of me jumping him, and pushed back the urge to laugh,
feeling a little crazy. “I should take her upstairs,” I said instead. “I’d like her to sleep for a little while longer, or she’ll be a grump later.”
He nodded, and I gestured to the couch. “Sit down. I’ll be back.”
Luckily, Beth seemed to respect the code of the sisterhood—she remained fast asleep as I pulled her from the bassinet and carried her up to the nursery. I laid her in the crib, and she stretched once before settling back into sleep. Breathing a sigh of relief, I dashed into the bathroom. A quick glance in the mirror told me it was just as bad as I feared. I looked washed out and tired, my hair an absolute mess. A dark wet stain at my shoulder was painfully obvious. I splashed some water on my face before pulling my hair up into a messy bun—better than nothing—then grabbed a purple cardigan from my room, hoping that the bright color would be a distraction from my wan skin and dull hair.
As I pulled on the sweater, my mind was spinning. Jackson Coles was here. Here in my house. It was impossible not to picture the last time I had seen him. Christmas morning, in the hospital. I was exhausted, having welcomed Beth into the world mere hours earlier, and there was Jackson, peeking his head into my room, gorgeous as ever in spite of the hours spent in the waiting room.
Until that moment, I hadn’t even known he was there. I had left the family Christmas party, the Christmas party Jackson had unexpectedly attended, with Lizzie in an ambulance, Beth’s arrival imminent. Once she was there in my arms, I lost track of pretty much everything. It wasn’t until later, much later, that I learned the entire family had relocated the Christmas party there to the hospital.
And Jackson had come with them.
After pretty much every one of my cousins, aunts, and uncles had visited, there had been a knock on the door. And then he was there, smiling at me, looking a little nervous but wasting no time in coming over to sit at my side.
At first, I was horrified at the idea of him seeing me like that, absolutely exhausted, only hours after doing the hardest thing I’d ever accomplished in my life. But he had looked so awed by the entire situation, so…proud of me, almost. It was hard to still feel bad when someone was looking at me like that.
So I had invited him to stay and meet Beth. He had cooed at her in a most un-superstar manner, and I didn’t know if I should laugh at him or land a kiss on his cute, silly face. All I knew was that I was very, very taken with this man.
And that scared the hell out of me.
Because Beth was here now. And I couldn’t reconcile the flirty, fun moments I had shared with Jackson with the new reality of being a mother. If I tried to imagine a scenario in which anything could happen between us, I drew a blank. His life was a million miles away from mine, in every way. There was no chance for us.
The realization made me much sadder than I wanted to be on the day I welcomed my daughter into the world. So when he had made some vague comments about spending the week in the city, maybe seeing me for New Years, I had told him, as firmly as I could manage, that I would be far too busy.
And I thought that would be the end of it. In what universe would Jackson Coles make a second attempt to connect with me? I figured he would move on to whatever actress he met next, forgetting about our little not-quite-a-fling before he’d even boarded the plane.
But now, he was here, sitting on my mother’s blue checked couch. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. I took one last peek in the mirror, adjusted the cardigan to better cover the stain on my shirt, and headed back down to the living room.
It wasn’t until I was at the bottom of the stairs that I remembered I had left the TV on. The TV paused on Jackson’s face. Damn it.
“What were you watching?” he asked me as I entered the room, sounding amused and more than a little delighted.
“It was…a commercial. You knocked and—”
“You wanted to make sure you didn’t miss the end?” he asked.
I wondered exactly how red it was possible to get. At least I didn’t need to worry about looking washed out.
“Actually,” I said, pulling the cardigan around myself and trying to sound dignified, “I was talking to Lizzie, and she mentioned seeing you at a party. Right when the commercial came on. So we were talking about how strange that was—to be talking about a person and then to see them on TV.”
Did his face fall a little? He definitely seemed distinctly less pleased than he had a moment ago. “How is Lizzie?” he asked.
“She’s good.” I perched on the arm of the couch at the end opposite him, afraid of what my Jackson-crazed body might do if I got any closer. “They’re coming into town next month.”
“Next month, eh? I wonder if I’ll see them.”
Hang on. Did he have plans to be here in a month? “What, uh, are you doing here? In town, I mean.”
His chest puffed up a little, the disappointed look fading. “I had a meeting with Jenner Collins.”
“About that movie?” I let myself slide down onto the couch, still keeping my distance, my heart going into overdrive. Jenner Collins was a local movie star who had made it big in action films. In the last few years, he had dedicated himself to using that success to give something back to his hometown. He ran a theater company in the city and shot several of his smaller, independent movies here. Thomas had worked with him on a blockbuster in Hollywood, and he was one of the few celebrity types that Lizzie talked about with any measure of respect.
Jackson had met with him over Christmas about the possibility of playing a role in the next film. The next film shooting here.
“Yup. We were finalizing a few things.”
“You got the part.”
He beamed at me, looking as proud as I had ever seen him. “I got it.”
“That’s fantastic!” I plastered a smile on my face, but my brain was spinning. He was going to be shooting a movie here. In Detroit. We were going to be in the same general vicinity. How long did it take to finish a movie? How long would he be here?
“We start in a few weeks,” he was saying. “I’m a little nervous, it’s quite a departure for me, but Jenner thinks I’m right for the role, and I can’t argue with his assessment.”
I could barely process what he was saying. All I could think was that Jackson was going to be in town. A lot.
“I’m really happy for you,” I said, my throat feeling dry. “Lizzie and Thomas seem to like Jenner so much.”
“And I respect their opinion,” he said, his voice serious. “It’s the reason I sought out Jenner in the first place.” His eyes met mine, something in his flashing. “Well, one of the reasons.”
And there it was again. That spark of intensity that always seemed to flow between us. I had felt it back in London at the wedding, an almost uncontrollable pull toward him, no matter where he was in the room. I had felt it again when he had come here for Christmas, in spite of the fact that Jim had been here, as well. In spite of the fact that Lola Fischer, his co-star and often-rumored girlfriend, was right across the room.
There was something between us, as insane as that was to imagine, given his looks and fame. There was something—I just didn’t know exactly what it was.
“What…uh… Where are you staying?” I asked, feeling my blush deepen as his eyes continued to flash at me from the other end of the couch.
“I’m going to be looking for places tomorrow,” he said, never dropping my gaze. “In fact…that’s why I stopped by.”
I had a mad thought that he was going to ask to stay here, my brain flashing to a ridiculous image of him eating cereal at the kitchen table with my parents, everyone clad in bathrobes and fuzzy slippers.
But then Jackson continued. “I was hoping you could give me some advice about local neighborhoods.”
“Of course.” I felt silly. Like he would need more than advice from me. “Where will the shooting take place?”
“In the city, for the most part.”
“Well, there are lots of areas in Detroit that are nice. And some pretty close suburbs, too, if you w
ant something like that.”
“The studio has some properties for me to look at.” He met my gaze again. “Could you come with me?”
“Uh…” I was caught in his gaze, unable to look away. I knew the logical thing, the smart thing, would be to make an excuse. To tell him I was too busy with Beth to go riding around the city looking at apartments. That was the smart thing to do.
“Of course,” I squeaked. “I would be happy to.”
He grinned as he leaned back, settling into the couch. “Excellent. Tomorrow? They made appointments for me between ten and two.”
My mind flashed to Beth. I hadn’t left her with my mom for more than an hour or so at a time. “You could bring Beth,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “If she doesn’t mind being in the car.”
I felt touched that he would consider her. I tried to imagine what that would be like, spending an afternoon with Beth and Jackson. But then, I thought for an instant what it would be like to get out of the house, on my own, without a baby in my arms. I could take a nice shower in the morning. Actually put on some makeup and do something with my hair. All of a sudden, the thought of leaving Beth didn’t seem so terrible. It was okay to want a break, wasn’t it? “I think my mom could watch her,” I said instead.
He nodded. “You could probably use a bit of a break, eh?”
“You have no idea.”
Was I imagining him inching a little closer on the couch? “How’s it been going?” That flash of a grin again. “Aside from her being perfect, I mean. Are you enjoying being a mum?”
“I am.” I mimicked his relaxed posture, pulling up my feet and settling into my end of the couch. “It’s really tiring sometimes, and I’m a bit sick of looking like this.” I gestured down at my yoga-clad self. “But I can’t even remember what life was like before her.”
“I think you look fantastic,” he said firmly. “Motherhood suits you.”
I snorted. “If crummy lounging clothes and dirty hair are fantastic.”
He reached across the open space between us and took my hand, squeezing it gently. “I mean it, Sofie. You look even better than the last time I saw you.”
Starstruck Page 2
