Nice rack but no class. Trying too hard.
She smiled seductively at him as she stood up.
“You’re in good hands with Megan, but if you’re ever looking for more…uh…experienced hands, I’ve been in the business longer.” She peered out from under her lashes at him as she penned her number on the back of her business card before she slipped it into his hand. He palmed the card, put it in his pocket, and returned her saucy grin with one of his own.
“Brielle,” she said as she handed him a small notebook to sign.
“That’s an unusual name.”
“It is. Combination of Brinda and Ellen. Family names.”
“One that’ll be hard to forget.” He handed her the signed notebook before turning to the next person in line.
When he finished, he noticed Megan frowning. Harvey Dillon shook Chaz’s hand a third time.
Chaz flipped his wrist and peeked at his Rolex. Leaning over to Megan he whispered, “Let’s go.”
She nodded, picking up her purse and jacket before leading the way to the elevator. Chaz spoke a few words into his cell phone, then turned to Megan. “Bobby is outside.”
At Megan’s quizzical look he explained, “Bobby’s an old friend. He’s my chauffeur when I’m in town.” Chaz donned his sunglasses.
The elevator was almost full, but they managed to squeeze in.
“Chaz Duncan!” Someone in the back called out, not fooled by the dark glasses.
Murmured greetings, gasps, and pats on the back greeted Chaz. He pasted a plastic smile on his face, nodding to everyone. Megan and Chaz were the first out of the elevator, almost running to the curb where the limousine was waiting. When the door closed, Chaz sat back against the seat of the town car. He blew out a breath.
“I hate being trapped in an elevator full of fans. I get claustrophobic. It makes me nervous as hell.” He whipped out a handkerchief to mop the sweat off his forehead.
“Where to, Chaz?” Bobby threw the car in drive.
“Rio de Janeiro.”
“Rio? We’re driving to Rio?” Megan stared at him.
“It’s a restaurant on Forty-Sixth Street. You thought…” Chaz and Bobby guffawed.
“Okay, okay. What was that stuff with Brielle?” Megan put her hand on his arm.
“What stuff? She was flirting with me, so I flirted back. Fans love that.”
“You didn’t have to be so convincing.”
“Jealous?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.
“Not at all.” She sat up straighter on the seat.
She’s jealous. “You were…gotta love that.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry, she’s not my type.” He grinned at her.
“And what type is she?” Meg huffed.
“The flashy and obvious type. You’re much more my style.” He ran a finger down her cheek.
“Oh?” She blushed slightly at his touch.
“The demure, smart…sexy type.” He kissed the back of her hand and watched her cheeks turn a becoming rosy shade.
The car crawled down Seventh Avenue, which was choked with rush hour traffic. Meg looked out the window. With her attention drawn away from him, Chaz seized the moment to study her unobserved.
She looked so lovely with her bangs a bit askew, her dark brown hair in loose curls resting on her shoulders. The brilliant green of the business suit made the green of her eyes glow. His gaze slid down to the V of her white vest and the swelling of cleavage there. His hand grew restless, the desire to touch her getting dangerously close to rocketing out of control.
Her hands were small with well-manicured nails. The polish was a shiny but subtle, translucent, creamy white. Her slim legs were crossed. He spied a bit of thigh where her skirt rode up, making him wonder what color her panties were. He glanced at the white vest and figured she had to be wearing a white or beige bra or it would show through the light-colored fabric. That meant panties to match. Maybe white with lace…lots of lace. Stop! She’s a business associate.
He gave his head an almost imperceptible shake right before the car stopped. Bobby hopped out to open the door. Chaz got out first, offering his hand to Megan. Her skirt slid further up her thigh for a few seconds as she got out of the car. Chaz didn’t miss a delectable inch. Three more inches and I’d know if they were white and lacy. Damn.
* * * *
The Maitre D’ greeted Chaz warmly. He showed them to a quiet table in a small room with only two other tables, both empty. The walls were painted a burnt orange. The tablecloths were white. A rainforest patterned fabric in orange, white, and green covered the chairs and booths. Small candles added a romantic glow to each table. Chaz sat next to Megan in the booth.
“I don’t know how we can go over this…the lighting is terrible.” But it’s romantic as hell. Resist. Be strong.
“Why don’t you tell me about it? I can take the papers home.”
While Megan pulled out two sets of documents from her briefcase, Chaz ordered two Caipirinhas.
“Do you know what P/E means?” She asked, taking a sip of her drink.
He shook his head and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.
“Guess we’re starting from square one. P/E is price earnings ratio, which means the price of the stock in relation to the earnings of the company. What you need to know is the lower the ratio, the better the company.” Megan circled the P/E numbers in the document.
“Why is that?” Chaz raised his glass to drink.
“If the selling price of the stock is, say, maybe fifteen to twenty times earnings, then the company is well run, doing well, a better risk. But if the price of the stock is, say, fifty times earnings, then the company is riskier, maybe not doing as well, not making as much money as it can or should.”
“I see. You use this number to pick stocks?”
“It’s one reference tool I use.” She sipped her drink.
“Good to know.” He nodded.
“I want you to know all you can about investing. I can teach you.”
“I’m going on location to shoot the next West of the Sun movie in a couple of weeks.”
“You are?” She put down her pen.
“But you can teach me by Skype.” Chaz swallowed a healthy swig of the cool, potent liquid.
“Skype?”
“Through the computer. I can see you while you’re teaching me. I’m a very visual guy.” His gaze slid over her form.
“I can tell,” she chuckled.
“I’ll need something to keep my nights occupied.”
“Oh? No cast members to keep you…uh…busy?” She raised an eyebrow.
“There might be. Maybe I’d rather look at you while I learn something about managing money.” He took her hand.
Megan burst out laughing, almost knocking over her drink.
“Right. Sure. Yeah. Me over some gorgeous actress.” She eased her hand away from his. No hand holding, no PDA…keep your distance.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Meg.”
The waiter returned, interrupting further conversation. “Let me order for you. Do you eat beef?”
She nodded.
“Okay. Two churrasco Gaucho and two more Caipirinhas, please.”
“Here,” Megan tucked one set of papers into an envelope. “After I finish another drink, I’m not sure I’ll remember what P/E is myself.”
Chaz tucked the envelope between them on the bench. Two more drinks arrived and Megan settled back into the comfortable booth.
Twenty questions time. “How did you get into acting?” She turned to face him.
He shifted in the booth as if looking for a more comfortable position.
“That’s a very boring story. Let’s talk about you.” He sat back and picked up his water glass.
“I’m the boring one here. Come on. Some privileged childhood, then Yale School of Drama? Didn’t know what else to do with your life?”
Chaz laughed a mirthless laugh. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Quite the oppos
ite.”
The waiter placed fresh drinks on the table.
“Come on. Share.” She sipped on the new drink.
His eyes narrowed. His face became a shuttered mask. An invisible wall sprang up between them. Crap! What have I done? Where did he go?
‘My life story is not public knowledge….and I like it that way.” His eyes darkened.
“It’s me, your financial advisor. Confidentiality is my middle name.” Meg put her hand on top of his.
“That’s what they all say. I’ve seen more careers ruined by loose lips. Never gonna happen to me.” Chaz slipped his hand out from under hers.
The chill in the air made Megan shiver. Suddenly, Chaz was a million miles away. Nice going, Meg. Way to build confidence. “You think I’d ruin your career?”
“Maybe not directly, but if you told someone else…celebrity gossip is too juicy not to share.” He picked up his drink.
“I’d never break your confidence.”
“Really? And when a friend pressures you about the real me?” He cocked an eyebrow.
“I don’t have a lot of friends.”
“All it takes is one.” Chaz took a healthy sip.
“You have trust issues, don’t you?” Meg softened her tone.
“I’m not stupid. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. I’m not about to blow it shooting my mouth off to a woman.” The heat of anger edged his voice.
Megan jerked back as if he had slapped her across the face. “I’m sorry you feel that way about me.” Emotion gathered in her throat, making speech impossible.
“It’s not you, it’s…everybody.” Chaz placed his hand on hers, but Megan moved away.
They drank in silence for a while. Meg frantically searched her brain for a secret to share.
“How about I reveal a deep, dark secret about me?”
“It’s not the same. Don’t take offense, but you’re not a celebrity.”
“Maybe you can’t use it, but it takes a level of trust to tell you something I’ve never told anyone before.” He snapped to attention, his eyes focused on her face.
The wall of ice between them melted a bit. Megan noticed his expression soften. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to. It’s time I told someone the truth, anyway.” Emotion welled in her chest.
“It won’t change how I feel about my past.” He raised his palm to her.
“If you don’t want me to tell you…” She took a sip of her water to moisten her suddenly dry mouth.
“Please…please...I’d like to hear.” This time his fingers wrapped around hers before she could pull her hand away. Chaz summoned the waiter and ordered another round.
Megan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Rapid blinking kept her tears at bay. She gathered her thoughts and closed her small fingers around his thumb. “My father disappeared.”
“What?”
“My dad disappeared.” She let out a breath slowly.
Her statement captured his full attention. His mask dissolved.
“My dad loved to climb mountains…hike. He was an outdoors type of guy. Mom was, still is, a homebody. He’d go hiking three times a year with a club, a group of friends…” Her chest tightened as the memory became crystal clear. “On the day he left for his last hiking trip, he and my mom had a terrible fight. They never got along too well to begin with but this one was rip-roaring. He stalked off…we never heard from him again.”
“Did you contact his hiking buddies?”
She nodded, her hand gripping her drink. “We did. We called the police. We checked everywhere. Seems after their trip, his buddies went one way, he went another. My mother thought he deserted us.”
There was silence as Chaz captured her hand in both of his. “My dad and I got along really well. We kind of understood each other. My mother always preferred Mark. I’ve never accepted he left us…deserted us.”
“How old were you when this happened?”
“Fifteen and I still miss him.”
“Not a word from him since?”
Emotion choked Megan. A lump formed in her throat, cutting off words. She shook her head. Tears—previously held at bay—spilled over, running down her cheeks. Chaz folded her in his arms and held her tight. She closed her eyes, letting the heat from his body and the strength of his arms soothe her.
“I’m honored you chose to tell me,” he whispered as his hand stroked her hair.
Megan regained her composure and leaned back away from him.
“What about your mother…and Mark? What did they think?”
“Mark blamed my mother and my dad. He’s never forgiven either of them. My mother divorced my father…abandonment. But she’s never forgiven him either.
“And you? Do you forgive him?”
“When he didn’t show for graduation or get in touch with us…I assumed he died somehow. With Mark’s triumphs…Dad would never…never…” her voice cracked, “have deserted us. Mark’s ashamed…he doesn’t want anyone to know. He hasn’t told a soul. None of his teammates…no one.” She fumbled in her purse, looking for a hanky, avoiding Chaz’s sympathetic stare. He traced a tear then wiped it off her face with his thumb.
Mark! Shit! Mark! Meg’s hands went cold, the color drained from her face, and a shiver ran up her spine. If Chaz tells anyone... “I never should have told you…he’ll kill me if this comes out. Oh God, if this hits the papers…please…please.” Her eyes got wide. Her hands twisted the hanky while she chewed her lip. What am I doing? He’s not my friend. He’s a business associate.
A small smile raised the corners of Chaz’s mouth.
The waiter delivered more drinks.
“Now you understand how I feel…about revealing my past.”
God, he’s right.
Chaz leaned over, planting a gentle kiss on her lips. “I’ll take your secret to the grave.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, her lower lip trembling.
Megan took a big gulp of her drink as a tiny shudder reverberated through her body. A second gulp of the Caipirinha brought warmth rushing through her veins, calming her emotions. She let out a breath.
Chaz leaned back when the waiter arrived with their food. The clatter of plates broke the somber mood.
“This looks great,” she said, eyeing her plate piled high with steak, rice, beans and farofa.
When dinner was over, Chaz flipped open his cell phone. Megan put her hand over the speaker. “It’s nice out. Let’s walk. It’s almost dark enough most people won’t recognize you.”
He dialed the phone. “Walking home, Bobby. Catch you later.”
They strolled up Sixth Avenue until they came to Central Park at Fifty-Ninth Street.
“Through the park?”
“It’s late…kind of dangerous.”
“Not until after midnight. Come on. Be adventurous.” He offered his hand. His brilliant smile warmed her. He laced his fingers with hers, leading her into the park and onto the path winding north.
Chapter Four
The breeze picked up, making Megan wrap her arms around her torso for warmth. Chaz took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. The rustling of the trees, green with new spring leaves, made pleasant music as they moseyed along the path—in no hurry to reach their destination.
“It must have been horrible for you…when your dad disappeared.”
“For a long time I expected him to come walking in the door. So many years have gone by with no contact at all. I can’t believe he’d leave us without a word.”
Chaz draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close to him. She sighed and fell into step with him.
“My life was no bed of roses either.”
Megan looked at him.
“If this hits the papers, I’ll know where it came from,” he warned.
Megan crossed her heart with her finger. “I promise.”
“My mother was a crack addict. I was born in the South Bronx without a dad. When I was nine, Mom d
ied from an overdose. I went to live in foster homes. I escaped into fantasy…the only way I could deal with my life. One day, I became a brilliant scientist…the next, a superhero incognito…anyone except who I really was. Make-believe kept me sane, though my teachers didn’t appreciate it. Foster parents thought I was nuts. I got shuffled from one foster home to another.”
Megan gasped, unable to stop herself.
“One middle school teacher, Emily Gold, took pity on me. She encouraged my fantasies, which she referred to as ‘acting.’ Mrs. Gold made me the star of the school play. Once I heard applause, I was hooked.”
She snaked her arm around his waist and gave a little squeeze.
“Before long, Emily and her husband Max took me in as a foster child. With their help, my grades soared. I got into LaGuardia High School’s acting program. From there, Yale School of Drama…the rest is pretty boring.”
“I had it all wrong.”
“Most people do. Especially when they hear Yale. I was on full scholarship there.”
“How terrible for you—to go through all that. Full scholarship…wow! Not easy. So amazing where you ended up.”
“Tough times made me self-sufficient.”
“What happened to Emily and Max?”
“They were in their sixties when I went to live with them. I’m thirty-two now. Do the math. They’ve both passed on.”
“I’m so sorry, Chaz.” She squeezed his arm.
By the time Chaz finished his story, they had reached the park exit leading to her building. “It’s not a pretty story. I don’t want it public. I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me.” Chaz stopped.
She recognized the pain that flickered deep inside his dark orbs. She caught a glimpse of the boy he once had been crouched there alone in darkness.
“Of course. I understand…but it’s not a finished story, either.”
“I’m a work-in-progress, for sure.” He laughed.
“I won’t tell anyone…promise.” She smoothed the hair on his forehead off to the side.
His chest rose as he took a deep breath. A look of relief flashed across his features. He never told that to anyone? Trust? Does he trust me?
If I Loved You (Hollywood Hearts 1) Page 4
