by Hana Sheik
“While I understand that Madison works with a very select clientele, I somehow wasn’t expecting a movie star.” He said it as if he was aggravated.
“Sorry to disappoint.” She shrugged snidely.
Now that he’d placed her, here it came. Once people knew she was Luna Price, film actress, everything seemed to change. They gushed all over her and stumbled over their words, and started treating her as if she was some kind of otherworldly creature who didn’t bleed red or have the same ten fingers and ten toes they did. While, at the same time, they examined her as if she was a product that they had to decide if it was worth spending their money on or not. Luna was, of course, grateful for the life of privilege her fame had brought her, but deep inside it never got easier to be constantly measured and judged.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Charlie retorted. “I’m just a bit shocked.”
Although she’d been on dozens of film sets, where she’d had to meet cast and crew members for the first time, and had interacted with hundreds of fans, the ineptness she was feeling now was somehow different. Maybe because Charlie Matthews appeared to have a distant and absolute power. Since people usually fumbled all over her, the dynamic wasn’t something she was used to.
“So we’ve established it then,” she spat out. “I’m an actress and you’re a tech genius.”
“Genius. Yes.” He snickered.
“And here we are.” Ugh, Luna couldn’t think of a time when she’d felt more off-kilter. She and tall, handsome, prickly Charlie Matthews were to spend seven nights alone together? She’d just like to get through the next five minutes. “I assume that Madison explained to you that I’m not using her services to find a long-term romantic match.”
“Neither am I.” She couldn’t snap that out fast enough.
“I’m only seeking a sort of transitional week of rejuvenation.”
“Exactly. Transitional.” How were they going to begin that promised relaxation? Luna’s shoulders felt as tense as coils.
“Which is why it doesn’t make sense that she booked us a place with only one bed.”
“No insult intended but I’m not comfortable with that.”
“I understand completely.”
His eyes met hers but then ricocheted around the lounging area of the villa, as if he was trying to fix on something other than her.
She decided to break the stalemate. “I’ve never been to the Caribbean. Have you?”
“No. Do you travel a lot for your films?”
“A fair amount shoot right in LA. Others in Canada. And then for a few others I’ve gone on location.”
“That must be exciting.”
“It has its moments. I’ve been very lucky.”
She wasn’t ready to tell him yet that the first movie she was going to shoot after a year off was starting up right after this week in Puerto Rico. Or why that was so. Although she had a strange sensation that she and Charlie might get to know each other this week more than she had anticipated. There was something about him she couldn’t put her finger on that made her feel she might want to genuinely talk to him, and listen. He had a sort of seriousness that she liked. She might need to keep reminding herself that this was no time to get caught up in someone. She was taking care of herself now and was nowhere near being willing to trust someone—she might never be. But each time his eyes shot away, her desire increased to have them back. There was a lot of story behind his green orbs—of that much she was certain.
“What sort of travel do you typically do?” she asked, continuing to chat, her breath easing. “Oh, and shall we have a cold drink?”
Juan Carlos had mentioned that the villa was fully stocked. They stepped over to a bar area that was done in rich woods with a bamboo ceiling fan overhead. Both of them were careful not to move too near to each other. Atop the marble counter were clear cylinders filled with juices that had slices of fresh fruit floating in them. Behind the bar was a coffee setup, with beans and teas from around the world. There was a wide array of rums. Luna recalled once reading that Puerto Rico was famous for its rum production. There were other spirits and liquors, too, from tequila to gin to aged scotch. All sorts of sodas and mixers were visible through the bar refrigerator’s glass doors as were at least a half-dozen bottles of top-of-the-line champagne, along with a visible compartment that displayed gallons of ice cubes ready to help chill the hot August day.
Luna knew that she was nervous and, as such, took such a scrupulous inventory of the beverages. She resisted moving on to the open kitchen area, where gourmet and local food and snacks were bound to be overflowing. Being around a lot of food was potentially challenging for her, so she’d have to be diligent about the techniques she used to keep from reverting to old behaviors. She squelched the bubbling feeling in her stomach that served as a warning sign.
“Those juices look inviting,” Charlie decided after glancing over the options.
“Yes, one is guava and the other is orangelo, a combination of orange and pomelo,” Luna informed him as she read the scripted cards placed in front of each canister.
“Pomelo is similar to grapefruit. That sounds like a refreshing blend. Would you like some over ice?” He took the lead and selected two tall glasses that had the resort’s logo etched on them.
“Gracias.”
The corner of his mouth ticked up. When he had said he’d need her assistance this week because she spoke a bit of Spanish, a squiggle had crept up her spine. She’d been able to keep any expression from registering in her face, being an actress and all. But the idea of Charlie obliged to her in any way shocked her with possibility. Made her think of people who relied on each other, who finished each other. Who had the kind of real-life connection that Luna only knew how to act out in front of a camera.
Charlie Matthews was probably not beholden to anything or anyone. Luna noted to herself that she’d better not allow even a moment of fantasizing that this weeklong dip into the waters of dating was anything else. It already seemed that was going to be harder than it sounded with Charlie. His stoic posture, with that straight torso, was already making her think about being in his embrace. Her head against his no-doubt taut and solid chest. She even imagined what her lips might feel like against his. She was sure his would be firm yet alive. Shaking her head a bit, she snapped out of that thinking, almost ready to laugh at her own imagination. Wow, she hadn’t been alone with a man in a long time.
“The chef is coming by to serve dinner at eight?” he asked, already knowing the answer because it was written on an information note left on the bar. “It’s after five now. Shall we enjoy the juice while we familiarize ourselves with the villa and then perhaps have a rest? It’s been a long day of travel.”
Bartender Charlie moved behind the bar and filled each glass halfway with ice, then poured the orangelo drink. It was already delicious, and she hadn’t even tasted it. The juice didn’t look half-bad, either.
She moved closer to him, although with the bar between them, it was as if he was the server and she the customer. But when he handed her the drink and their fingers brushed, the playacting ended there. It brought her body to attention. The touch of Charlie’s fingers as he handed her the ice-cold drink felt like a key to a door that she didn’t know was locked.
Copyright © 2021 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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ISBN-13: 9780369712974
Second Chance to Wear His Ring
Copyright © 2021 by Muna Sheik
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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