It made sense, but it was another reminder she didn’t know as much about him as she thought she did. In fact, mulling over the week, she’d learned a lot about him in the past few days, but it still paled in comparison to what she knew of him professionally. “Did you ever think about it? Forming a band?”
“Sure. I think most people who don’t suck horribly think about it at least once. But I don’t want to take work away from artists trying to make it.” When she arched a brow, he continued, “Clubs are going to book the acts who fill the house—and actors are too much of a draw. I’d rather bring people in by announcing I’ll be there to watch a favorite band perform. Booking gigs in Hollywood is hard enough when talented musicians aren’t having to compete with some actor’s garage band.” He broke into applause as the woman on the stage hit a Mariah Carey high note.
“Garage band?”
He smirked and raised his beer bottle. “I have a really nice garage.”
She laughed, and for a while, they just sat and drank and listened to people sing. She understood why he preferred this to the clubs. Even with the pressure of singing in public, it was a different kind of show. Closer, more relaxed. “You know, I think I will sing.”
DJ announced Evan again, and he stood, grinning like he’d just won a jackpot. “You better hurry. He said he slotted you in a couple after me.”
As Evan took the stage, she made her way to DJ’s booth. He handed her the strip of paper, and she promised to have it back before Evan’s number was over.
She sat down just as the opening bars of a Van Halen song hit her. Staring at Evan, she froze. “Why Can’t This Be Love?” fell from his lips as he looked right at her. He hadn’t even dropped the act for his song choices, and it hurt more than she could bear. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away.
For her own sanity, she needed Evan to tone it down a little. If he didn’t, their charade was going to have to end here. She couldn’t handle any more of the questions and sadness eating at her. As much as she didn’t need more reminders, maybe if she sang it out of her system, she’d feel better.
She scribbled the title on the paper and rushed it to DJ just as Evan was finishing up. He jumped off the stage and drew her into his arms, picking her up and carrying her back to the table to the cheers of the crowd.
While she waited for her name to be called, she drained her glass, hoping like hell she hadn’t made a mistake. Then DJ announced her, to the mad applause of the crowd, and it was too late to change her mind.
…
Evan was so happy Stasia had gotten over her nerves and was on stage that, at first, the song choice didn’t register. Once it did, his smile faltered. “Time for Me to Fly” was a love song, but it was a song about leaving, about being better off alone. Was she singing a final farewell to her idiot ex, or to him about leaving tomorrow?
He’d known there was a chance she didn’t share his feelings, but he hadn’t expected her to feel joy about leaving, not even with all the madness that had happened over the week. He’d thought—he’d hoped—she’d been looking for a way to make this work because the two of them together had been amazing.
She had tears in her eyes as she sang. Never, through any of the words, did she raise a hand to dash them away, but they were there all the same, glistening brighter than the diamond on her finger. Whatever the song meant, he didn’t want her to spend the night with this kind of disillusion haunting her. They needed to talk. Now. Not later. Not tomorrow.
Scattered applause followed in her wake when she walked off the stage, and she gave him a weak smile as she sat back down. “And that is why I don’t do karaoke.”
Her voice hadn’t been terrible by any stretch, but by the end of the song, it was clear her heart was in the words more than the singing. Evan cupped her face in his hands, swiping his thumbs under her eyes. “I don’t like seeing you like this, babe.”
“No worries. Even tears have an expiration date, or so I’ve been told.” She sucked in a breath that seemed to fortify her a little, but she still trembled beneath his touch.
Strength wasn’t her problem, though—fear was. He just needed to find out which part of her future was scaring her so badly. “Let’s get out of here, okay?”
Giving a tight nod, she stood. “Yeah. I guess it’s probably about that time.”
It took no time at all to hail a cab. But when they climbed in, Stasia scooted to the opposite side of the seat. Evan reached across the space between them. For a long minute, as the taxi waited to turn into traffic, Stasia only stared at his fingers, keeping her own tightly laced in her lap. Then she rolled her lips together and reached out, twining her pinky with his.
Chapter Fourteen
It seemed to take forever to get back to the safety of the Palazzo, and the door to the suite had barely closed when Evan shattered that facade. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
It was bullshit; Stasia couldn’t deny that, but she also couldn’t explain how much the act was tearing her up inside. Talking about it would hurt too much. So, she said the only thing that would come out, “My flight leaves at midnight tomorrow.”
Evan paused in the middle of toeing off his shoes. “I thought you were here until Saturday morning.”
“I was. I changed my flight.”
“Why?”
Stasia shook her head and wandered over to the wall of windows. The ground was so far away that people were little more than specks moving along strips of gray ribbon. Vegas was a canvas of hopes and dreams—of magic. So far away, she couldn’t see the chips and mars, the brokenness. So close, she could reach out and touch it. If only she dared. “Because it made sense.”
“No, it doesn’t. It’s taking a whole extra day away that we could spend together.” Evan gripped her by the arms and turned her around until she had to look at him—at the lines crinkling across his forehead. “Why would you do that?”
Why was he so upset? He was the one who wanted to get back to being single. “Because we’re breaking up tomorrow night, remember? The plan?”
He let go like touching her suddenly burned him, and a hint of anger lit his voice. “Jesus, is that all you care about?”
No. It’s all I get to care about now. “Isn’t that why we’re doing all this? Sticking it to my ex and getting you back in the media’s good graces. Win-win, remember?”
“I know what I said.” But the fire had eked out of him. “Things changed.”
“No, they didn’t.” She couldn’t believe that. No matter how badly she wanted to cling to the idea there might be more. He hadn’t said the words. He hadn’t offered to change anything.
In the space of a breath, Evan was right there again, this time, circling his arms around her and holding her close. His breath feathered over her hair. “I don’t want you to leave tomorrow.”
Stasia closed her eyes and allowed herself one inhale—his cologne, his musk, his essence. The words were perfect—and they hurt more than she could stand. “Stop it. I know you said we don’t need to be different behind closed doors, but it hurts to think you’re just playing a role with me.”
He stepped back, holding her at arm’s length, but not letting her go. “I’m not, babe. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I tried not to get in too deep because I didn’t think there was a way to keep you in my life without affecting my career, but I figured it out.”
Hope, she saw it, shining in his eyes. It was right there, dangling in front of her, waiting for her to reach out.
Stasia blinked slowly, waiting for the punch line, but it didn’t seem to be coming. The only thing in her line of sight was Evan’s face, painted with a sincerity she’d never seen. After the week they’d been through, the madness Paul had put them through, could this really be her happily ever after? “I thought Hollywood needed their bad boy back.”
“They do, but The Game Maker is going to be a hit. I know it. And then there’s Time Phantom Four rele
asing next year. One, maybe two more movies the next year—at least one good, quality film that’ll really cement my name as an actor… and I won’t have to play the game anymore.”
Regardless of how excited he seemed, he wasn’t making any sense. Stasia took a step away, trying to put some distance between herself and the soul-stealing blue eyes that weren’t the haven she’d thought them a moment ago. “I don’t understand. You’re talking about movies. What does that have to do with us?”
“Sorry.” He shook his head and moved toward her again. Holding his arms open like an invitation. “That’s just how long I’ll need before I can make us public. I’ll play their stupid game through the last premiere, and then we’ll make a show of finding each other again, and this time it’ll be real and forever.”
Instead of caving into his embrace, she moved farther away, her brows knitting together. She rubbed at her forehead as the headache she’d lied about earlier started taking hold for real. “You want me to wait for you for three years? Just…what? Sit at home, hanging out until Jessica calls and tells me you’re ready?”
“Of course not. I don’t want to lose you, babe. We’ll just have to keep our relationship on the down-low while I deal with all of this. I’m not quitting you. Not now, not ever.” He smiled at her like somehow that made everything right.
For the first time since she walked into the interview, his grin didn’t stop her heart. No, this time it was because of the knife he’d just stabbed into it. “So…fake fiancée to secret girlfriend to real what? Because, right now, I’m feeling like I’m some dirty little secret, Evan. And I won’t be that. I can’t.”
It’d be too much like being alone. She’d be tied to him without being with him. Stolen moments when he could sneak away from Hollywood. She couldn’t live like that—not even for the man she loved.
…
“I know it’s not ideal.” Evan raked a hand through his hair. Why was she being so stubborn about this? It was the only way they could both get everything they needed—plus have each other in the long run. He reached toward her, hoping to get her close again. The physical contact. They’d been missing that too much today. “But if you think about it, it really wouldn’t be so different from being with me when I have to go on location all the time.”
“Are you kidding me?” Stasia bristled, shoving his hand away. “And I’m supposed to just watch as you romance your way around Hollywood? Pretend it’s nothing more than another role while I fight to get my job back in Detroit? Fight to hold onto my damn sanity with the mantra of someday-he’ll-be-mine-again?”
“It won’t be like that. Those women? That bullshit? It is another role. You’re the one I care about. And what do you mean get your job back? Actually, it doesn’t matter. If you’re really worried about things, I can swing some extra money to keep you solvent until we can be together again.”
Her eyes went wide, the whites practically glowing with a rage he’d never seen in her before. “And here I thought you were the guy who hated women who used him for his money. Newsflash, Evan. I never asked for your money. I never wanted it. You offered me a favor and then played your part so well, I obviously thought you were someone else.”
Fuck, this was going all kinds of wrong. “You do know me. I’m the same guy you taught to play Skee Ball. The same one whose fingers you crushed at Zumanity. I’m the same fucking guy I’ve been all week!”
Emotions played over her face so quickly, he couldn’t even count them. Then she pressed her lips tightly together and shook her head. “That’s right. You were an actor playing the role of besotted fiancé. Congratulations, you even fooled me for a while. But I can’t keep up that kind of charade for years. I won’t. You either want me or you don’t.”
Somehow, in the last twelve hours, the world had gone completely off-kilter. He hadn’t expected her to be ecstatic about the situation, but if she really wanted him—and she said she did—she should have been happier about it than this. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“No. It’s not.”
“Yes, it is. I have my family to consider.”
“I thought it was your career you were worried about. Make up your mind.”
He pounded his fist against the windows, making them vibrate. “It’s both. I need the job to keep my family intact. Hell, if not for my family, you and I wouldn’t even be together right now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The big reason I jumped in to help you was because I wasn’t around to help Vicky when she went through her fucked-up divorce. You knew you wanted to get revenge on your ex, and I could help make that happen.”
Stasia stepped back as if he’d slapped her, her eyes saucers and her mouth dropped open. All the color had drained from her face in an instant. “Pity? You did all this out of pity and some warped sense of guilt?”
“Yes.” He caught himself as soon as the word was out of his mouth. It had started that way, but his reasons hadn’t lasted. “No. Damn it, babe, it’s not that simple.”
“Maybe not, but this is.” She twisted the ring off her finger and pressed it into his hand. “Consider yourself guilt free now. I don’t need your pity, and I certainly don’t want it. It costs more than all the shiny baubles in the whole world.” A single step backward, biting her lip, and then she turned and walked into the bedroom.
The diamond weighed heavy in his hand, a symbol of all the things he’d done wrong. “You need the ring if you want to convince your ex we’re still together.”
He hadn’t said it loudly, but she’d obviously been waiting for him to get the last word in. “It was symbolic, you jerk. Consider this practice for when I give it back to you tomorrow night. And in case you didn’t figure it out, that first night? Sleeping on the couch? That was practice for tonight.” She threw the blanket and pillow toward him and then slammed the bedroom door.
His only choices were to let her go or go after her, and he could almost hear Vicky’s voice echoing in his skull. I’m not going to tell you not to chase her, but be sure.
After what had just happened, he wasn’t sure anymore. Not at all.
…
The sun stirred Stasia from bed long before the alarm went off. She hadn’t slept, so it had just been a process of waiting for a reasonable hour to start what would be the longest, most painful day of her life. She snuck out of the suite, tiptoeing to the door to the sounds of Evan’s fitful snoring.
She’d been so sure when Evan had started talking about being together that everything was going to work out. That he’d fallen as hard for her as she had him. But everything else in his life came first, and not just in the short term.
How was she supposed to cope with meaning less than nothing to him? She was a stand-in. The one never seen on camera who just helped to make sure everything lined up. Purpose served, she was moved to the side so the real stars could take over. In the film world, stand-ins were invisible. Not quite cast, not quite crew, their names rarely made the credit rolls at the end—forgotten by everyone.
It was just like living with Paul. She’d done all the work to make sure he looked good, but there was nothing in it for her—not really.
That was the part killing her. She’d been sure she and Evan would walk away from this as friends if nothing else. Now, the only thing she wondered was how long it would be until he couldn’t remember her name.
Maybe if he’d asked her to wait until he’d had time to ride the wave The Game Maker would carry him on, give him time to break it to Jessica that he wasn’t following her five-year plan anymore… Maybe she could have done that. But to sit back and watch him go to premieres and film festivals and vacations with a string of models and starlets? She just couldn’t.
The ironic part was if he’d asked her to do it at the beginning of the week, she’d have said yes. She’d been so beaten down by Paul, so broken, that it would have looked just like the new start she’d been craving.
But he’d helped her find herself a
gain instead. Now that she wasn’t a little ball of bits and pieces someone had swept into a pile just waiting to be put back together, she wouldn’t take the scraps of life he was offering. She needed the whole thing. No, she deserved the whole thing—even if it wasn’t with him.
And for the moment, she was alone. Just her and the two gowns for tonight in a garment bag. They’d joined her for breakfast, and window-shopping, and then for lunch as well. By the end of the meal, she still hadn’t decided which one she was wearing: Evan’s choice or hers. The problem was neither of them belonged to her, not really, and more than that, neither of them suited her, either.
Besides they’re just one more reminder of the pity party for two. And to think, I hadn’t even invited Evan.
Manic laughter bubbled up in her throat as she pictured the headline: Evan Stone, Pity Party Crasher.
No. She wasn’t going there. She’d had her crying fit last night. Today was just a test—a way to see how strong she really was. Granted, her disguise for the day meant she wasn’t having too hard a time yet. No one had come up asking where Evan was. She had him to thank for the idea of gym clothes and slicking her hair back under a baseball cap. It made her practically invisible.
With time left to kill before her appointments, she wandered through Caesar’s Palace until she finally sank onto a stool in the casino and threw a few dollars into a slot machine. The winnings were enough to keep her going for a while, but she pushed the button blindly.
Evan hadn’t come after her last night.
He hadn’t even really tried to stop her from closing the bedroom door in his face.
So much for the declaration that he cared about and wanted her. He hadn’t even bothered crossing the suite for her. And after all the things she’d done at his urging.
Fake engagement.
Public body shots.
Tempting Her Fake Fiance Page 16
