Stand-In Star

by Rachael Johns

  Holly looked to him expectantly. “Sounds fabulous.”

  “Actually, I’ve just remembered something I need to do.” If he had to stick around and watch Holly twist and turn on the table while Bec stuck pins in the gown, he’d go insane. He took one long last look at Holly. “Do you think you could get a cab back to the house when you’re finished?’

  She looked questioningly at him—no doubt wondering what had come up so suddenly, no doubt seeing right through his lies like she seemed to see through everything else. “Not a problem.”

  And then she turned back to the mirror, making sure the reflection of her eyes didn’t meet his. Her dismissal became his cue to leave.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Is something going on between you and Nate?”

  Holly shook her head. Ignoring the sinking of her heart, she answered Bec honestly. “No. Nothing.”

  Bec peered at her suspiciously and then blinked as if dismissing a crazy thought. “He was acting weird.”

  “Isn’t he always like that?” asked Holly in mock jest, but her tummy churned at the thought that maybe she was responsible for his actions. He’d spent a day with her yesterday and that appeared to be about all he could handle. She’d been unable to sleep due to the raunchy dreams about him and he could barely cope with being in the same room as her. Obviously, despite their conversations, he hadn’t forgiven her for blacklisting Daisy.

  She’d been naive to think he would.

  “True, he’s male. What more can we expect?” As if happy with her assessment, Bec pulled a pin-cushion out of her pocket and started work.

  Holly took a moment to assess herself in the mirror, trying to reignite the joy of first seeing her reflection in the dress. It was unlike anything she could have concocted even in her wildest imaginings, which was probably why she was an academic not an artist.

  As scarlet as Stella’s favorite nail polish, and strapless, the top half of the gown hugged her body like plastic wrap. She’d always thought she’d feel frumpy and self-conscious in such a fitted dress but the detailed ruffles flowing from the waist down helped to create the opposite effect. And the train…well! She felt like Marilyn Monroe in red. Sexy and provocative and like she could reach out and take whatever she wanted from the world.

  But soon her mind drifted back to the weird hot-coldness of Nate. When he’d made his presence known she’d taken one look at the smoldering expression on his face and thought she’d quite possibility combust. But once again, she’d been so terribly misguided in her assumptions, so totally wrong in her judgment.

  Would she ever find someone who liked her for her? Whose flirtations and friendliness she could trust.

  Stop. She didn’t want to be a desperate singleton, constantly on the lookout, wondering if every man she talked about was going to be the one to share her dreams. Since Ian and until Nate, she’d barely thought about such things. She was an ambitious, career-orientated woman. What did she really need a man for? Well, aside from the pleasure and the baby factor. And in this day and age, even those she could achieve well enough on her own.

  She sighed deeply, resolving to stop thinking about Nate as anything other than a friend of her sister’s with whom she happened to be staying. Temporarily.

  And now attending the renowned Academy Awards with. Gulp.

  She forced herself to turn her attentions back on the dress. Any more thinking along these lines and she’d be shaking too much for Bec to do her pinning properly. Bec—who was chattering beside her. Bec—who probably thought her rude and/or stuck-up for totally ignoring the conversation.

  “I’m sorry. What were you saying?” She looked down with an apologetic smile. “I’m a bit bamboozled by all this. I got lost there for a moment.”

  Bec grinned warmly. “I said, we’ll have to get you a spray tan. Or have you already booked that with your hair and make-up?”

  Holly looked down at her toes, not meeting Bec’s gaze. “That’d be a negative.”

  “Alright, well that’s okay. I can sweet talk the lady who does my tans. She’ll fit you in.”

  “No. I mean, I haven’t organized any of that stuff yet.” She shrugged her shoulders. She wasn’t normally this disorganized—okay, when it came to fashion and beauty she wasn’t exactly dedicated either—but the fact this was all about Daisy had flummoxed her into non-action. She looked sheepishly at Bec. “No tan. No hair. No make-up.”

  The other woman’s eyebrows shot up so fast her hair line probably went into shock. “Please, tell me you’re joking.”

  Holly shook her head slowly.

  Letting out an exasperated sigh, Bec flung the pin cushion on the bedside table and picked up her cell phone. While, she punched in some numbers, Holly stepped down from her pedestal and then listened as Bec organized a tan and what sounded like a team of hair and make-up specialists to come to Nate’s house Sunday morning. From the sound of it, despite the short notice, it didn’t take much sweet-talking anyone to rearrange their schedules to let her in. Once Bec mentioned who required the appointment.

  “Right. That’s settled.” Bec put the phone back on the dresser and placed a hand against her chest as if trying to regulate her heart beat. “You worried me for a moment there but I think we’ll be able to pull this altogether.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. I’m not afraid of hard work and it’s me should be thanking you for this chance. You could have gone with someone far better known, but you put your trust in me and for that I’m eternally grateful. But enough chit chat, I need that sushi now before I faint.”

  Bec turned tail and headed for the door.

  Holly called to her. “Can I take the dress off?”

  “Yes, but be careful of the pins,” Bec said as she left the room.

  Soon after Holly dressed in her normal clothes again, the sushi arrived and she sat down in front of the television with Bec to eat and relax. Bec put Pretty Woman, which she professed to be her favorite film of all time, on the TV.

  Holly found Nate’s sister easy to get on with. Their careers were about as far from each other as Pluto was to the Sun, but in many ways Bec reminded Holly of Stella. Down to earth and creative all rolled into one fun-loving package. She relaxed for what felt like the first time in days—only thinking about Nate sporadically—while Bec buzzed busily behind her on the sewing machine. The woman was a machine herself.

  The afternoon passed quickly. The room grew dim without the lights on overheard and they heard a key turning in the front door. Bec’s face lit up at the sound. She put the gown carefully to one side and rushed to greet Linc.

  “Hello,” Linc said. Noticing Holly, he waved. In one hand he held a large bottle of diet cola and an enormous spray of bright-colored flowers in the other. He turned his attentions on Bec. “For you,” he said, holding the two items out, “to help you stay awake another night if you need to work and also just because I love you.”

  Holly swooned at his words, her heart feeling like it would break out of her chest at any moment. Romantic as well as devoted, successful and good looking. Some women had all the luck.

  With a tender chuckle, Bec took his offerings, quickly dumped them on the tiny kitchen table and then all but ran the few meters back to him. As the apartment was miniscule, Holly stared at the television and tried not to look as Bec and Linc indulged in a rather saucy greeting.

  When they were done, Linc mentioned a shower and dinner. “Is Nate coming to pick you up? Do you guys want to stay for dinner?”

  Bec let out a snort. “Nate is busy apparently.” She turned to Holly. “But you stay. It’ll be fun.”

  “I don’t want to intrude,” Holly protested.

  “It’s not an intrusion. Linc loves cooking. He’ll even drive you home after.”

  Linc pulled Bec into his side and kissed the top of her head. “I do everything she says.”

  Bec snorted but it was an affectionate snort, accompanied by a playful punch to his arm.

&n
bsp; “Okay then.” Holly smiled, unable to argue as the idea appealed a lot more than going back to Nate’s house and walking on egg shells all evening. “Thanks.”

  The evening spent with Bec and Linc was one of the most enjoyable she’d had in a long time. Linc cooked the most divine dinner—the best she’d ever had outside a restaurant—and he did the washing up. His passion for food was rivaled only by his passion for Bec. By the time he served up dessert, Holly had pretty much decided those two should win Olympic Gold for World’s Best Couple. They had wedded bliss down to a fine art and they weren’t even married. Holly couldn’t help but wonder what it was that made them truly click.

  As she sipped the last dregs of her one glass of champagne, Bec laughed at another anecdote Linc shared of their first meeting and placed her hand affectionately against her hubby’s knee. It wasn’t the first time one of them had absentmindedly reached out to the other or brushed their fingers along bare skin. And Holly’d bet her life savings that it wouldn’t be the last.

  At that knowledge something inside her cracked a little. Her grip tightened on the stem of the expensive crystal flute and she suddenly had an intense desire to have another, despite knowing what happened to her whenever she drank too much.

  She and Ian had been together almost five years before their fatal marriage. Had they ever been like Bec and Linc? Had they ever been so easy and comfortable with each other that they touched out of habit, barely even noticing they were doing so? Had they smiled continuously and finished each other’s sentences? She didn’t think so.

  And she knew with absolutely certainly Ian had never looked at her with the same admiration Linc showed whenever he looked at Bec. She thought back to the few incidental dates she’d had before hooking up with Ian, but none of them had been like that either.

  Was it her? Did she not know how to pick a winner?

  “Want a top up?” Linc gestured to her now empty glass. “I’ll go open another bottle.”

  Holly recalled the bottle of pink champagne from the television company, now lying at the bottom of her bag. She leaned over to reach into her bag, which was sitting at her feet, and offered up the bottle to Linc. “I got it from Karla for appearing on the morning show.”

  “Perfect.” Linc took the bottle, popped the cork and proceeded to fill all their glasses again. Then he held his glass in the air. “To Bec’s designs. And to Holly and Daisy for making them possible.”

  Holly clinked her glass against the others.

  Raising her glass again, Bec added, “Yes, to Holly and Daisy. Thanks.”

  Holly lowered her lips to the glass and almost cried out in relief as the cool bubbles fizzed against her tongue. She wouldn’t go overboard but she couldn’t get the questions out of her head, and right now, being a little tipsy might not be a bad thing.

  * * *

  Nate swung another punch at the boxing bag and looked across the gym to the girls in skimpy clothing watching him. He should be flattered by the number of ladies who’d tried to flirt with him since he’d arrived a couple of hours ago, but he couldn’t summon such enthusiasm. If he’d thought that kind of release would work, he could have phoned any number of contacts in his virtual little black book.

  But he knew it wouldn’t.

  Nothing else today had succeeded in exorcising Holly and her sweet body from his mind. He’d gone straight from Bec’s house to the Santa Monica beach, where he’d indulged in a long run, a swim and then some fish and chips as he snapped pictures of the sun setting over the ocean.

  He had no idea the number of photos he’d taken but when he’d gone back to the studio and loaded them onto the computer they’d all been crap. Bad work made him grumpy. And he’d come here for intense physical exercise as his last resort. He changed to upper cuts, then alternated to a hook and was tempted to throw in a roundhouse. There was nothing quite like laying a punch for releasing tension. As the sweat dripped from his body, soaking his tee, he felt rewarded.

  But if one more female smiled sweetly at him or commented on his tight pecs, he’d snap.

  Thoughts of a drink kept popping into his mind and he tried desperately to push them away. That was how dangerous Holly was—she’d got him thinking about losing control in a way he’d sworn he never would.

  He laid one final jab into the bag and, without saying goodbye to any of the regulars, he gathered his things and stalked out of the club.

  He dug his hands into his pockets and headed down a side street to where he’d parked the Viper. Perhaps the late night air against his face would clear his head, to relax the tension that had been wracking his body the last couple of days. He’d never been this churned up inside before, so torn between lust and the feeling that sleeping with a woman—a particular woman—would be the wrong thing to do. It was driving him crazy.

  He glanced at his watch and saw it was nearing midnight. Bec and Linc would have ensured Holly got home safely. She was probably already in bed. His gut clenched at that image—an image of her lying flat on her back, limbs sprawled at all angles, wearing some barely-there negligee—and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

  Maybe he should stay at the shelter.

  Don’t be stupid, man. It wasn’t like he was a horny teenager who couldn’t control his sexual urges.

  The drive home passed in a blur—his head throbbing as he told himself he had two more days to survive. He refused to think about the fact that one of these days, he’d be dressing up in his best clothes and taking Holly to the Oscars.

  As he turned into his driveway and beeped the security gates open, he looked up and blinked at the site of his whole house lit up. What the—? He parked the car and got out, pausing at the sound of loud music blaring. Is she having a party?

  Either way, the lights and the noise made it highly unlikely he’d be able to avoid Holly or get any kind of sleep in the near future.

  Annoyed, he tackled the lock and pushed the door open. If the sixties music was loud outside, it was deafening inside. It wasn’t that he disliked the sounds per se but if he were rocking on into the early hours of the morning, he’d choose a different playlist all together. He shut the door behind him, quite loudly, but there was no indication that Holly and whoever she had in the living room with her had heard him arrive.

  He should ignore it. Walk past the door, up the steps and into his bedroom. He wasn’t in the mood for socializing.

  But the door to the living room was open wide and he couldn’t resist a quick glance inside. He froze. Standing in the middle of the room, on top of his expensive granite coffee table, stood Holly. Only she wasn’t standing, she was rocking and moving her body to the music like she didn’t have a care in the world. Her skin glowed with perspiration and her hair swam wildly around her face. Her delicious curves accentuated with every sensual move.

  He sucked in a breath, his insides whirling.

  It had to be the most beautiful and provocative thing he’d ever seen. Ever.

  Staring, he steadied himself on the door jamb, knowing any moment she could turn around and see him.

  Seconds ticked by and still she didn’t notice him standing there. She aimed the remote at his high-tech stereo system and the music changed instantly. He closed his eyes for a few seconds reprieve of the intensity he felt toward her. When he opened them, her moves had changed. Slower, not quite seductive, almost sad. He itched to step inside the room, even to join her—although he wasn’t usually one to dance—but something held him back.

  It had to be the same thing that had been stopping him all week. Pity he didn’t know what the hell this newfound reluctance was. He just knew he couldn’t risk getting any closer than they already were.

  His hand went to his pocket. His muscles tightened as he contemplated what he wanted to do. If he asked her for a photo, he was almost certain she’d go all shy and tell him to take a hike. But he didn’t want her to shut off the music and he didn’t want her to stop. Her dance was expressive, like therapy almost, and
he didn’t want to interrupt it. He knew she needed this release. It was also something he desperately wanted to record.

  This was the lesser of two evils.

  Pushing away the guilt, the doubts that what he was doing was wrong and reasoning he could easily delete it if she wished, he slipped his camera from his pocket and, using all the make-yourself-invisible techniques he’d learned during his years in the pap, he lifted it and aimed. With the room brightly lit, he didn’t need to use a flash and the expensive pocket camera barely made a sound with each click.

  His fingers snap-happy, he reeled off a number of shots. Totally lost in her own world, Holly danced on, twisting and moving in ways that caused his body to cramp. He couldn’t help but smile.

  She was addictive.

  Just when he thought she’d dance all night and never notice him, the music changed again. He hadn’t even noticed her lifting the remote to take aim, but as she did so, she must have looked sideways, because suddenly she was staring at him.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  The tables turned—he’d been caught red-handed.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Taking a photo,” Nate answered simply but there was a huskiness in his tone Holly had only fantasized about before.

  Instead of changing the music as she’d planned, Holly shut the sound right off and crossed her arms over her chest. She was fully dressed so why did she suddenly feel stripped bare? She’d been certain he was still out when she returned an hour ago and she hadn’t heard his car or the sounds of him entering the house.

  How long had he been standing there? How long had he been watching her dance like the crazy uncoordinated fool she was whenever she sought her favorite kind of solace?

  Her cheeks flared hot at the thought and a sharp pain shot to her temples. His words finally registered. “I know you were taking a photo, idiot, but why?”

  He opened his mouth, but for the first time since she’d met him he didn’t appear to have an answer.