by Melody Grace
Griffin froze.
“I wanted to apologize,” she continued, giving him a bright, casual smile. “I guess I was in a weird mood, and got my signals crossed . . . Anyway, it doesn’t matter. These things happen. I didn’t want you feeling awkward about it.”
She flashed another smile, looking breezy and downright carefree. Griffin felt a weird sting of rejection. Which was crazy. After all, he’d been the one to blow her off.
“It’s cool.” He gave a shrug. “No big deal. Like you said, these things happen.”
“So we can be friends?” Lila beamed. “I promise, I won’t jump you again.” She laughed, and Griffin forced an awkward chuckle.
“Friends,” he agreed.
“Do you need any help out here today?” she asked, looking around, and Griffin was glad he’d planned the least attractive day’s work yet.
“Not unless you want to spread half an acre of manure,” he replied.
“Maybe not,” Lila laughed. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Griffin nodded and turned back to work, clearing the last pieces of debris from the areas he’d designated for the new planting. But even as he tried to focus on the task in front of him, he kept glimpsing Lila out of the corner of his eye. She was fixing some kind of cord between the house and nearby trees, then pinning laundry from a basket to the line.
“My dryer isn’t working,” she called to him. “So I’m doing it the old-fashioned way.”
Griffin nodded and kept on clearing, until he glanced up and realized just what she was hanging out to dry.
Lingerie.
Well, not really. There were T-shirts and other garments too, but Griffin wasn’t paying attention to them. His eyes were fixed on the nightgowns she was pinning to the line. White cotton, whisper thin, with ruffles, and ribbons and—
“Damn!” Griffin cursed in pain. He’d grabbed an old piece of glass without looking, and the jagged edge had cut his palm.
“What’s wrong?” Lila hurried over.
“It’s fine.” Griffin tried to wave her off, but she grabbed his hand and gasped.
“You’re bleeding!”
“It’s just a scratch,” Griffin lied, even as he winced in pain. Lila gave him a look, then dragged him back towards the house.
“I’ve got a first aid kit somewhere. Or is it more manly to die of an infection?”
Good point.
Griffin quit complaining and let her lead him into the living room, where she sat him down on the couch, and tossed him a clean tea towel. “Is there a piece still in there?” Lila asked, rummaging in a cupboard.
Griffin braced himself and opened his palm. “No, I don’t think so.”
What had he been thinking? Usually, he wore thick gloves to protect himself from rookie mistakes like this. But he’d been so focused on Lila’s undergarments, he hadn’t noticed the mistake.
That was what he got for letting his mind wander.
She rejoined him with a first aid kit. “Hold still,” she ordered, dabbing at the blood, then pouring rubbing alcohol over the wound. It hurt like hell, but Griffin caught a whiff of her shampoo, and somehow it was all the anesthetic he needed.
She smelled like springtime.
Lila held his hand carefully and efficiently cleaned out the wound. “It’s not too deep, I don’t think you’ll need to go to the ER.”
“I told you I was fine,” Griffin said, snapping back to reality.
“Uh uh.” Lila smiled, like she didn’t believe him for a second. She taped on a bandage and carefully smoothed it down. “There, all set.”
“Thanks.” Griffin flexed his hand. “Were you a nurse in another life?”
“Two summers lifeguarding at the community center pool,” Lila replied with a smile. “Trust me, that’s nothing compared to what adolescent boys can do with broken soda cans.”
“I’ll consider myself lucky then,” Griffin said wryly.
Lila’s phone sounded in the next room. She froze. “This can’t be good,” she said with a sigh. She caught Griffin’s confusion and added, “The only people who have this number are my agents and my mom.”
“Good luck.”
Griffin sat back for a moment as Lila went to answer the call. He heard snatches from the next room, but couldn’t make much out aside from the tone of Lila’s voice.
She didn’t sound happy.
He looked around the room. He’d only seen the kitchen so far, but the living space had the same cozy, low-key feel, with books piled on the sideboard and bright artwork propped on the mantle. It wasn’t what he’d expected from a big Hollywood star, but then again, nothing about Lila was what he’d expected.
“Tell me you’re hungry,” Lila said, returning—with a large, delicious-looking coffee cake and two plates. “Otherwise, I’ll stress-eat the whole thing by myself.”
“Bad news?” Griffin asked.
Lila sighed. “Not exactly.” She sat down and cut a massive slice before continuing. “It’s this event I’m supposed to go to this weekend. I told my agents no public appearances, I’m off the radar, but . . . this is a charity function. The children’s hospital in Boston, I’m one of the patrons, and it would be really crappy of me to bail on them now.”
She took a mournful bite of cake.
“So, what’s the deal?” Griffin asked, taking a bite himself. It was good cake. “You have to cut a ribbon? Give a speech?”
Lila shook her head. “It’s a black-tie gala. Photographers, journalists, everyone buzzing around, asking where I’ve been . . .”
A shadow cast across her face that Griffin had never seen before. She seemed smaller for a moment, her light dimming.
“I could go,” he found himself offering, without even thinking about it.
Lila’s head snapped up. “You?” She looked just as surprised as he was by the offer. “With me? Like . . . a date?”
Griffin coughed on a crumb. Damn. What had he gotten himself into? He’d just been telling himself to keep his distance and stay professional, and now here he was, inviting her out for a romantic night on the town?
“No, I mean, just . . . as backup,” he said finally. “Or not. It would be easier with someone with you, wouldn’t it? I could just scowl at everyone and make them go away.”
Lila smiled again, and Griffin knew somehow that he’d done the right thing.
“I don’t know . . .” she said slowly. “These things can be really boring.”
“How’s the food?” Griffin countered.
Her smile got wider. “Pretty good. I usually don’t eat a thing, but this time . . .”
“Canapes all day.” Griffin grinned back, glad to see her smiling again. “What do you say then? I can clean up halfway decent, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Lila checked again, but Griffin wasn’t backing out now. In fact, for someone who’d sworn off wearing a tie again, he was feeling strangely cheerful about the whole affair.
“I’ve got some business in the city,” he said, which was almost true. “How about I meet you there at the party? You can buy me a drink. An expensive one.”
“Deal.” Lila beamed, and Griffin felt that dangerous spark of heat again.
Now, where was he going to find a tux on short notice in Sweetbriar Cove?
9
She had a date.
A date with Griffin.
Lila knew he’d dismissed it as just a friendly favor, but what else was she supposed to call it? The two of them, dressed up for a swanky function, far from home. Together.
It was date-like. Date-adjacent.
It was the only thing she was looking forward to about the whole wretched night.
Well, day, really, because she wasn’t like him. She couldn’t just throw on a tux and walk out the door—not unless she wanted the collective press to freak out at her “daring”—or was that “misjudged”?—fashion choices. It was a good thing they weren’t meeting until later, because she had work t
o do beforehand.
Serious work.
She hired a driver and headed into Boston early enough for a mani-pedi, an appointment at the best salon in town, and a stop at her favorite boutique. She hadn’t been glammed up for months now, but Lila knew the press would be waiting, knives out, ready to tear her apart for the smallest failure.
It was time to become Lila Moore: Movie Star again.
“What do you think?” she asked, turning slowly in front of the mirror. She’d taken over a luxurious private dressing room that was now littered with discarded outfits, as she tried to go back in time to when she’d last attended one of these events. She’d gotten so used to jeans and a cozy sweater, she’d forgotten what it was like to stand up on that pedestal under bright lights and have to confront her own body from every angle.
“I don’t know . . .” The saleswoman looked anxious. “Maybe we should go the next size up?”
Lila winced. But the woman was right. Almond croissants and lazy mornings in bed may have soothed her soul these past months, but they didn’t make for a size-zero figure. Her usually toned body was looking softer already, padded with that delicious extra layer of butter.
“OK,” Lila agreed. She could already see the headlines breathlessly speculating about how she’d “let herself go.” Why was she doing this again?
Because she’d made a commitment, and this one actually mattered.
The clerk disappeared back to the shop floor to grab another haul of gorgeous designer gowns, while Lila looked around the dressing room and sighed. She should be in her element right now. She’d always loved this part of her job: getting dressed up in beautiful outfits with her hair and makeup styled, feeling like a princess on the red carpet. But now . . . ?
Now, it felt like she was painting on a mask again. Playing a role, instead of just being able to show up and be herself. She absently ran her fingers over a loose blue silk dress. It would be so comfortable to just wear it with a pair of flat sandals, her hair worn down and naturally wavy . . .
Her cellphone buzzed with a new message. It was her publicist. The makeup team will be at your hotel at 6. Remember, NO CARBS.
Lila set the phone back down. No, natural wasn’t in the cards for her, not after months out of the spotlight. She would need to shine, and dazzle, and give the benefit that sprinkle of stardust it needed. After all, it was for a good cause.
The saleswoman came back, her arms full. “We don’t carry it in a larger size,” she said apologetically, “but I brought some other options.”
Lila struggled into another dress, and surveyed her reflection. This one was a red satin gown, floor-length and skin-tight, and slit to the thigh. It was gorgeous, an eye-catching “look at me” dress that demanded attention—and a totally flat stomach.
This was a dress fit for a movie star. If this movie star could make it fit.
She breathed in, tight enough to get the zipper fastened. Just about. If she stayed standing all night . . . and moved very carefully . . . and didn’t touch those canapes . . .
Lila wished again she could just roll up in a kaftan, but she could hear her publicist’s voice already scolding her in her mind. She had an image to maintain. A career to think of. And while she wasn’t itching to get back to Hollywood anytime soon, she still wasn’t quite ready to burn her bridges yet.
“There’s only one thing for it.” She turned to the saleswoman with a grim smile. “Do you have any Spanx?”
* * *
Two hours later, Lila looked like a million bucks. Her hair was blown out in glossy waves, her makeup was flawless, and sure, she could hardly feel her thighs they were squeezed into her support garments so tight, but the red dress fell in a perfect swoop of red satin over her flat stomach—no almond croissants to be seen.
She looked like the glittering starlet everyone said that she was . . . and she was nervous as hell.
Did Griffin know what he was getting into?
This wasn’t just a casual drink at the local bar. There would be journalists, and photographers, and a whole ballroom of people jostling to get close to her. Not because they knew her, or even wanted to, but because it was a story to tell their friends the next day.
And the best stories always had a villain.
“Everything OK back there, miss?” The limo driver glanced in the rearview mirror on the way over to the gala.
Lila shifted restlessly in her seat. “Yes, thanks. Fine.”
“I have to tell you, I loved you in that movie of yours. What was it called . . . ?” the driver mused. “The one with the dog.”
‘Paws for Thought’. Lila tried to smile. She wished she could have a moment’s peace after being prodded and poked all day, but it wasn’t this guy’s fault she was wound so tightly. He was just doing his job. “And thank you. It was a lot of fun to shoot,” she added, giving her stock reply.
“I’ll bet, running around after that cute little pup all day.” He chuckled, and Lila gave a weak laugh. The dog had been a terror, nipping at her every chance he got, until she’d finally bribed him by keeping treats in her pocket all day.
“Say, I don’t suppose you’re looking for a new movie idea,” the driver continued. “Because I have a great one for you—”
“I’m actually taking a break from acting,” Lila blurted, before he could start pitching her.
“Oh, well, maybe you could send it to one of your actor buddies. Blake Callahan would be great in the role.”
“Mmmhmm,” Lila mumbled, non-committal. Thankfully, she saw the lights of the gala out of the window. “Look, we’re here!”
The event tonight was being hosted at one of the fancy hotels, right off the Common, and people were already making their way up the front steps, handing off invitations at the door. Lila took a deep breath.
Showtime.
She stepped out of the car, and for a glorious moment, she was unnoticed. Just another arriving guest in the dark. Then suddenly, the cry went up.
“Oh my God, that’s Lila Moore!”
The gasps and flashing cameras hit her all at once, a starburst of noise and lights as people raced over to get a closer look. She was jostled by a photographer, snapping photos right in her face, and then there were more of them, waving cellphones and yelling.
“Lila! Over here. Lila!”
She wanted to turn around and dive right back into the limo. Where was security? But before she could be swarmed by onlookers, a steadying hand took her arm. Lila flinched back, then she saw it was Griffin.
“Keeping things low-key, I see,” he remarked.
“You know me,” she managed to reply. “Just the girl next door.”
She held on tight, following after him as he cleared a path through the crowd. “Got your invitation?” he asked casually, like they were just on a pleasant evening stroll. “What am I saying? I’m sure I can slip the guy a twenty and get us in.”
Lila didn’t reply. The photographer was still stalking them, his flashbulb making spots dance in her eyes.
“Who’s your friend, Lila?” the reporters called.
“Is he your new boyfriend?”
“Is he the reason you left Justin at the altar?”
She kept her head down and stumbled after Griffin. Then, thankfully, they were past the velvet rope and over the threshold, and Lila could finally breathe again.
“Thank you,” she exhaled, trying to find her balance again. It wasn’t just the height of her heels that made her feel so unsteady. After months of peace in Sweetbriar Cove, the scrum outside had been a shock to her system. She’d forgotten just how bad it could be, with them all circling like wild animals, hungry for a piece of her.
Lila realized she was still holding on to Griffin tightly, and she reluctantly stepped away. “I’m sorry about all of that,” she said quickly, hoping he didn’t already want to bail. “They can get crazy like that. I should have warned you.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Griffin replied, amiable. “I feel sorry for the gu
ys, making such a big deal. They won’t be happy when they find out I’m just a regular Joe.”
Lila managed a smile. Then she took a real look at him for the first time.
Hello.
She blinked. Griffin had traded his jeans and dirty work shirts for a perfectly cut tuxedo that hugged the lines of his tall, muscular body. His unruly hair was tamed, his tan glowed gold against the crisp open collar of a white button-down shirt, and the scruffy stubble had been replaced with a smooth-shaven jawline.
Move over 007, Griffin Forrester cleaned up good.
“Hi,” she breathed, feeling flustered. “You look, um, great.”
“Not too shabby, right?” Griffin gave her a heart-stopping smile. Or maybe that was just her pulse reacting to the scent of his aftershave, crisp and woodsy. “I told you I wouldn’t let you down.”
“Ms. Moore.” A woman she recognized from the organizing committee materialized, with a clipboard and a smile. “I’m so happy you could join us. May I take your coat?”
“Oh, thanks.” Lila snapped back to reality. She shrugged off her wrap and handed it over. “Do you need me to do anything? I know there’s a dedication later . . .”
“We’ve got that covered. You just mingle and enjoy your night.”
“OK.”
Lila turned back to Griffin, and caught him staring at her. The look in his eyes made her blood run hot.
She glanced down. Right. The dress.
“I figured I may as well go full movie star,” she said self-consciously. “It’s what they’re expecting, after all. Or do you think it’s too much?”
Griffin cleared his throat. “No,” he said, sounding hoarser. “No. It’s just right.”
Lila flushed.
“Should we go in?” Griffin asked, nodding to the doors. People were heading into the ballroom, shooting curious looks as they passed.
“Must we?” Lila asked, only half-joking.
“You do owe me a drink,” Griffin pointed out, offering her his arm. She took it, and they made their way across the polished lobby. “And hey, what better place to have it than a massive party filled with strangers all making small talk about nothing?”
