Ignoring the jolt of lust that slammed into him at the sight of her, he blocked the stairs and folded his arms across his chest. “Where do you think you’re going?”
She spoke in a level tone, firm, polite but cold. “Please step out of my way. There’s a taxi waiting for me.”
“Not anymore.”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “The cab came. I told the driver we didn’t need it. He went away.”
“We didn’t need it?” She shoved the suitcase down, narrowly missing his toes and not showing any indication of remorse. Her hands snapped to her hips as he instinctively jumped back. “There is no we, Nate. Last time I checked I was a free agent. I stupidly accepted your offer of a room of my own free will and now I’m changing my mind. Of my own free will.”
“And where do you plan on going?”
“As amusing as you may find it,” she snapped, “I’ve called the hostel and am heading back there. Not that it’s any of your business but I’d rather be rooming with ten jovial backpackers than tip-toeing around in paradise with a two-faced traitor.”
“Whoa.” Holding up his hands, he stepped back at her harsh words. “If this is about the pool incident, I apologized.”
“Hah,” she snorted. “Your sorry was more of a grunt. But as it happens, your blunt and totally inhospitable treatment of me since I arrived is only part of the issue. I’ve just seen myself on the nightly news.”
“Congratulations.” Surprisingly, she didn’t look all that pleased about the fact. He was having immense difficulty following the direction of the conversation.
“Congratulations? Is that all you have to say?”
“What exactly do you want me to say?”
“Well, the truth would be a nice start.” She stepped down and—his reflexes a little bamboozled—managed to yank her suitcase past him. “But since you’ve been lying since the airport, I’m not expecting nice.”
Right, that was it. He’d had enough of being yelled at by a lunatic female in his own house. Before she could reach the front door, he turned and clamped his hand around her arm. “I’m not the one living a lie.”
“Get. Your hands. Off me.”
“With pleasure,” he lied, letting her go as if she were yesterday’s news. His body might revel in her touch but his head knew better.
Yet, instead of trying to leave, she sighed deeply and said, “Do you want a specific photo? Is that it?”
His head hurt from trying to understand. “What exactly are you talking about?”
“Are you or are you not Nate Devlin, Paparazzi Prince?”
Realization hit him, followed by the usual shot of self-defense. He might not be proud of every picture he’d taken but at least he’d done it for the right reasons. No one could knock a kid for wanting to rise above his despicable home life situation, for wanting to look after his mom and sisters after everything life had thrown at them. “Yes. I am. Although I haven’t taken a photo for that purpose in almost five years.”
“But what? I was easy prey? Too tempting?” She rolled her eyes in a manner that said she’d rather be picking maggots out of her dinner. “That’s one thing Daisy was right about. I am so naive. Did you even know her?”
His breathing accelerated as he tried to control his feelings. If she were a man, he might strike out, use his fists to show her exactly what he thought of her double standards. But despite the example he’d had as a child, he’d never raised his fists to a woman and he never would. “That’s a bit rich coming from you.”
She recoiled as if he’d actually laid a punch, but quickly recovered, schooling her facial features into an emotion-free expression. “We’re not talking about me. I’ve never asked or expected anything from you, but you practically kidnapped me from the airport, and if not because you secretly want to take a photo and make thousands, I’m wondering why.”
Nate swallowed. He’d never shied from confrontation but now that she’d given him the perfect opening to the conversation he desperately wanted to have, something was holding him back. Whenever she was near, he felt strangely off kilter. It wasn’t only the anger he felt toward her at her despicable treatment of Daisy, it was a physical response far more primal than that. Whenever she was near all he could think about was the fact he was a red-blooded American male and she was the finest specimen of female he’d ever laid eyes on.
A fact he had to get out of his head. Now.
He shifted on the spot, uncomfortable with the acknowledgement he was about to make because it went against every cell of sense in his body. “It’s simple. I know what those photographers can be like.” He shrugged. “Rifts aside, you’re Daisy’s sister and she’d want me to protect you.”
* * *
No, Holly didn’t buy it. Although the innately female part of her heart swelled at the thought of this big, strapping, handsome guy playing Tarzan to her Jane, he wasn’t giving her the whole story. She could a) barge right past him and chance her luck at calling another taxi or b) she could stand her ground and make him talk. Find out what crazy game he was playing before she made any more rash decisions.
She glanced at her watch then back to him. Her heart wobbled at the sight of his dark, intense eyes and the slight stubble at his strong jaw line. It would be so easy to be attracted to him. If he wasn’t such an arrogant pig and she hadn’t just learned he’d made his wealth stealing images other people hadn’t wanted to give.
“Protect me, hey? I thought chivalry was dead but it’s a nice notion.”
He shrugged, his lips ever so slightly twisted upwards at the edges. “I can be nice.”
“Not.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t believe it. At least not in this case. You’re a man with an ulterior motive if ever I’ve seen one.”
“Right.” He spoke slowly as if she’d just escaped a mental asylum, nodded and crossed his arms. He was defensive. Interesting.
“Yes, so you can tell me that motive and we can go from there or you can keep up this line of noble protection and I can leave. The choice is yours.”
He groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Damn, Holly, you make my head hurt.”
And his voice had the power to melt her bones. She crossed her arms to show she wasn’t about to back down. “Trust me, the feeling is entirely mutual.”
“Fine, we’ll talk.” He stepped back out of her personal space. “But not in the hallway. Come into the kitchen and I’ll get you a drink.”
She consented to the drink, despite a small voice inside her saying she should stand her ground and have it out with him right here. But her legs couldn’t handle standing much longer and truth be told, she wasn’t sure if it was the effect of jet lag or the effect of Nate. She pushed that thought aside, left her suitcase at the bottom of the stairs and followed him into the kitchen.
Nate pulled two glass tumblers from a cupboard. “Juice, water, coffee?”
For some reason, when he said “drink” she’d been thinking something alcoholic. Lord knew she could do with something stronger to calm her nerves but that probably wasn’t the best idea anyway. Alcohol had a tendency to numb her senses faster than it did most people and, around Nate, she needed full use of her faculties. “I’ll have a glass of water.”
“Sparkling or tap?”
“Sparkling, please.”
He took an expensive looking bottle of sparkling mineral water from the fridge to fill her glass and then filled his from the tap. “Take a seat.”
She perched herself on one of the high bar stools at the island counter. Nate stood on the other side like a warrior standing his ground, making a point of not taking the stool opposite her. They stared at each other for a long moment as if two opponents ready to launch into a dual. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, but it wasn’t fear. It was excitement.
Never before had she been so hopelessly attracted to someone who treated her like a scrap of carpet they walked on.
It was ironic. There had to be someone up in the heavens laughing at her. Since her belittling break-up with Ian, her body had refrained from making a fuss about any man. Stella lamented about Holly’s absolute lack of a sex life but Holly barely gave a moment’s thought to it. Okay, maybe a small moment. But she didn’t know if she’d ever feel anything for another man ever again and quite frankly, that was probably a good thing. No feeling, no room for humiliation and pain.
That thought spurred her on to break the awkward silence. “So? Tell me, Nate Devlin, how did you know I’d be at the airport?”
He took a long sip of his water, placed the glass on the marble countertop and then rubbed his jaw line before responding. “I still have contacts in the uh…media.”
Her professional self longed to ask him questions about his time in the dog-eat-dog world of the paparazzi. She’d learned to dislike the profession long ago, when random crazies tried to take photos of Daisy whenever they went out as a family. At five, Holly had always wondered why they wanted photos of her older sister—who’d debuted in an Aussie film at ten years old—but didn’t push and shove to take a shot of Holly. It was these sharks that’d first made her realize her sister had something she did not. But looking past that, his previous profession fascinated her. How anyone could justify invading another person’s privacy like that was beyond her.
Still, just because he had contacts didn’t explain why he’d decided to use them. “I still don’t understand. You’ve made it quite clear what you think of me, so why did you come? And most importantly, why did you offer me a place to stay?”
He had the good sense to look uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “Daisy was a…” The tell tale pause as he decided how to define her sister told Holly all she needed to know. The slight blush at Nate’s cheeks confirmed it. So much so that when he said, “good friend,” she raised her eyebrows.
“When I heard you were coming to the Awards on her behalf, I was surprised. Shocked.” He tossed her a reproving glare as if now was her time to confess but she wanted to hear exactly what he was accusing her of before she told him anything. If she told him anything.
She played the innocent. “And why is that?”
He raised a brow. “Why was I surprised?”
“Yes. After all, I am her sister.” She held her head high. Although he gave off the impression of distaste, she didn’t know what Daisy had actually told him. “And my parents don’t fly. Dad has a phobia and Mum won’t go anywhere without him.”
“Let’s just say you didn’t act much like a sister and, from what Daisy said, I wouldn’t have expected your parents to come either.”
He was right. Their parents had washed their hands of Daisy at the same time Holly had. Her mum’s heart had broken at the discovery a child of hers could be so immoral and show such a lack of respect to other people. But now, they harbored guilt.
Guilt that perhaps they’d been too harsh, too slow to forgive. Everyone made mistakes after all and now her parents would never have the chance to reconcile.
Well…Daisy’s mistake had ruined Holly’s life, so forgive her for being less hasty in her remorse. And forgive her for feeling as if she didn’t owe this judgmental stranger anything.
She took an assertive sip of her drink, that familiar rage bubbling beneath her skin. There were supposed to be five stages of grief… She was still, happily, stuck on anger. “You obviously have a theory, then? A reason as to why you think I accepted the offer to stand in for Daisy at the Oscars.”
“Yeah, I’ve got a theory alright.” He smirked. “A theory that you want a bit of her glamour and fame.”
She tried not to blink an eye at the ridiculousness of Nate’s biting words but the insinuation behind them cut deep. He may as well have voiced what she already knew, what had been drilled into her since early adolescence. Daisy was more attractive, more glamorous, more fashionable, more exciting, more everything than Holly.
Even her husband had thought so.
Logically she knew it was stupid and futile to let comparisons upset her so much, especially now Daisy was dead, but that was the thing about logic. Emotion over-ruled it every time.
“Sure,” she replied sarcastically, “that’s absolutely what I’m after. I can’t think of anything better than having the public think they own me, people think they have the right to photograph me wherever I go and the media reporting on my every move. Fact is, I’ll never be glamorous like my sister and I certainly don’t want her fame.”
Nate didn’t rise to her sarcasm. He simply shrugged and said, “So why now? Why come now when you wouldn’t come when Daisy was alive? Do you know how much your silence upset her?”
Upset her? Holly couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was clear Daisy hadn’t told Nate the truth about their falling out—why would she? And if Daisy didn’t see fit to tell the truth, Holly couldn’t see why she should bother. She didn’t like having to defend herself for something that wasn’t at all her fault. Besides, some clever Australian journalist would uncover the secret slip soon enough. Right now, she just wanted out of here.
She should never have accepted his offer of assistance at the airport—she should have known when something looked too damn good it usually was. But the bottom line was she didn’t owe him anything.
Glaring at him, she downed the last of her drink because her throat was dry and her nerves on edge. She needed to get out of here, now, before she spilled her guts to him. Before she tried to make him see that perhaps the situation wasn’t as black and white as he wanted to believe. He was Daisy’s friend, her lover probably, and Holly shouldn’t dream for one moment he’d take her side over her sister’s.
“Thanks for the drink. I’ll be going now.” She stood and shoved her stool under the breakfast bar.
“Wait.” His voice was firm, commanding.
She shook her head. “I don’t need this.” And started for the hallway and her bags. Daisy was dead. There was no getting past that. Holly didn’t want to go over old wounds, didn’t want to start contemplating guilt—this trip was going to be difficult enough. And she certainly didn’t want to fight about it with someone who already had a bias.
She heard his heavy steps right behind her but refused to turn around. She yanked her suitcase off the ground, threw her laptop bag over her shoulder and headed for the front door. She’d work out the logistics of calling another taxi once she’d escaped.
“Fine. Go.” Nate came up behind her, his mighty shadow falling over her and crawling up the front door. Irritation tainted his words but at least this time she knew he wasn’t going to try and convince her to stay.
She squashed down the tiny niggle of disappointment that started rising in her belly at this thought.
“I will,” she said as he worked the crazy locking system on the front door.
She clutched her luggage tightly and tapped her feet as she waited. When the door swung open, she couldn’t step through fast enough, but she also couldn’t go without having the final word. “Have you ever thought, Nate Devlin, that maybe Daisy wasn’t as perfect as she wanted you to believe?”
With that, she stormed down the drive, thankful when the massive gates opened at her approach. Now, how the hell did she get to the hostel from here?
Chapter Four
The next morning Holly woke to the buzzing of her phone. Bright sunlight stole in through the gap in the curtains, telling her she’d slept far later than she’d intended.
When she’d arrived at the hostel late last night, she’d been happy to find the lobby deserted except for the shaggy, long-haired, half-out-of-it guy at reception. He’d barely been able to hold a conversation, never mind recognize her, so she’d taken precautions and signed in under a fake name. She’d crept into a dorm with eight beds, no people and the distinct smell of smoked pot mixed together with moldy socks. She’d climbed into bed before any of her roomies could return but sleep had been uncomfortable—with fear hanging over her head, and her purse
, passport, camera and laptop all shoved under her pillow—and hard to come by with thoughts of sex-God Nate filling her mind. Somehow, eventually, she’d succumbed to a rather deep slumber.
She dug the phone out from under her pillow, then checked the screen and pressed Answer before her best friend gave up.
Stella cut loose without a greeting. “I thought you’d never answer. Please tell me you’re out hunting down a dress. Better still, please tell me you’ve found the perfect one.”
“Dress?” It took a moment for Holly’s brain to catch up with Stella’s ranting. She’d welcomed the friendly voice and wished Stella was here with her, which had been the original plan.
Stella groaned down the phone-line and realization dawned on Holly.
“Oh, you mean that dress?”
“Of course that dress. What boutiques have you checked out so far?”
Boutiques? Even the thought was enough to rouse a headache. At least it would be if she didn’t already have one. She blamed Nate and the stress he’d caused her yesterday.
Nate… Oh… Thinking about him made other unmentionable parts of her body throb. She pressed her free hand against her stomach. But really, who could blame her? Any woman in their right mind would fantasize about that.
“Hello? Are you listening to me?” Stella sounded cranky. A bored chef, she lived and breathed fashion, harboring ambitions to become the next Sarah Burton. Holly knew her own lack of interest often infuriated her friend.
“Sorry, yes.” She reluctantly informed Stella she’d gotten off to a late start today and was only now stepping out to shop. Or at least stepping onto the floor and into her jeans but luckily her mobile wasn’t high-tech enough for Stella to see that. With the phone wedged between her ear and shoulder, she quickly dressed and, trying not to wake the lumps lying in two of the other bunk beds, she whispered down the phone line telling Stella about the nightmare start to her trip.
All the while her mind was on the shopping.
Stand-In Star Page 4
