Now That I've Found You (New York Sullivans #1) (The Sullivans Book 15)

by Bella Andre

  “My sister left a pair of mud boots here last time she visited, if you want to try them on.”

  Sleeping in his arms, making breakfast together, walking his dog in his sister’s borrowed boots—if she let herself, it would be so easy to believe this was something more than a temporary break from her life. Especially if she let herself stay much longer.

  It was going to be hard enough to finally face the public, the TV producers, and her family. But leaving Drake was suddenly looming even larger than all of that. Because once she left him, she could not only never come back—she could never speak of their time at all. Not if she wanted to keep him clean.

  “Rosa?” His big, sexy hands were on her face, and he was gently stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. “I lost you there for a minute, didn’t I?”

  There was no point trying to deny it. “I was thinking about the show.” And how much I hate the thought of leaving you soon. She tried to smile as if her stomach wasn’t in knots. “Do you have a jacket to go with your sister’s boots?”

  Serious eyes held hers for a few more moments, before he nodded. “Out on the mud porch.”

  Once jackets and boots were on, the three of them headed out into the woods. The sun was out, but the morning air was cool enough that she was glad for the jacket over her sweatshirt. For the past five years, she’d worn custom and couture, but she wasn’t sure she’d ever been quite as comfortable as she was in a faded red raincoat, yellow mud boots, and her Montauk sweatpants. She felt surprisingly sexy too, which mostly had to do with the fact that this morning after they’d made love, she’d washed her bra and panties in the bathroom sink and left them hanging to dry, so she was currently going completely commando beneath her sweats.

  She could practically hear Drake’s brain working, knew he wasn’t going to let her comment about the show go that easily.

  One obvious way to distract him would be to mention what she wasn’t wearing beneath her clothes. They were both so hot for each other that it was a minor miracle their clothes had stayed on this long. But it wouldn’t sit right if she manipulated him like that. Regardless of the things she’d done during the past five years in the name of fame and reality TV, playing Drake in any way would make it so that she’d never again be able to look herself in the eye in any mirror, ever.

  “Go ahead.” She squeezed his hand to try to ground herself in his steady strength. “I’m ready for whatever you want to say.”

  His deep blue gaze locked with hers. “Do you want to go back to your show? And before you answer, you should know that I’m on your side whether it’s yes or no.”

  Rosa was completely thrown off by his acceptance of a possible yes. As he’d said before, it was tempting to try to assign black or white to everything, but the truth was that nothing was really all good or all bad, was it?

  Except for Drake Sullivan, who was one thousand percent good.

  “It was fun at first,” she admitted. It would be a lie to say it wasn’t, and lying to Drake wasn’t okay. “Being famous was part of the fun. Limos. First class. Luxury hotels. Designers making clothes just for me. Everyone was so interested in the music I was listening to, the TV shows I loved, what I wore—it was really flattering. Gave me a big head for a while, if I’m being honest. I was eighteen when we started filming, and I thought I was so grown up already. I didn’t realize that I’d be growing up in front of the world, that my screw-ups and crushes and fights with my mom wouldn’t be over in a day or a week like they were before the show, but would stay around forever on screen.”

  “I can’t imagine most people would have thought of that before signing on. And I’m guessing the producers sold you on the fun parts most of all.”

  “They did, but it’s not their fault that no one takes me seriously. If only I’d been more aware of the reputation I was building—”

  “You were a kid, Rosa. It doesn’t sound like you acted differently than anyone else does at eighteen or nineteen. Besides, you’re easily resilient enough to withstand a few public screw-ups.”

  “If I wasn’t, I would have quit the first week,” she agreed. “Even the bad stuff that came along with becoming famous, like losing some privacy and reading the mean things people said about me online and in the press, didn’t feel so bad. But then one day I saw myself on TV. And I was shocked...because I didn’t recognize her. I didn’t recognize me. Not just because of all the makeup, the hair, the clothes.” She paused, hoping he’d understand. “My laugh didn’t sound real. And I couldn’t think of the last book I’d read. The last hike I’d been on. The last friend I’d spent time with—not celebrity friends, but the real ones I’d known since kindergarten.” She was surprised to look back over her shoulder and realize they’d walked far enough that Drake’s cabin was no longer in sight. “That was the first time I thought about getting off the ride. But it was already going so fast, I couldn’t see how. And it just kept going faster and faster after that.”

  “You’re off now.”

  “Only because I freaked out about the pictures and ran.”

  “You call it running—I call it knowing you needed to take yourself out of the situation so that you could heal some first before carefully thinking through your next move.”

  She stopped in a ray of sunlight, another one that seemed to be aiming straight for her as she thought about what he’d said—and how different a perspective it was. One made of strength and intelligence rather than blind fear and foolishness.

  “When I saw the pictures for the first time—” She took a breath, one that helped her push past the stomach twisting that happened every time she thought about it. “I didn’t think I could ever get over it. Not when I know that no matter where I go or what I do for the rest of my life, the pictures will always be out there.” She looked up into Drake’s face, staggering in both its handsomeness and its kindness. “But I hadn’t counted on meeting someone like you, someone so convinced that I can heal.”

  “More now than ever, Rosa.” He smiled down at her. “You’ll not only heal, you’ll kick ass while you’re at it.”

  “Maybe I will kick ass at the healing part,” she found herself agreeing, “but that’s just step one, and I’m still drawing blanks on the steps after that. Not only going after the guy who took the pictures, but also dealing with my family.” A huge lump rose in her throat as she said, “I have no idea how my mom and brothers are going to react if I tell them I don’t want to do the show anymore. The producers told me last year that if I quit, the show would be canceled. It hurt so much to lose my dad. I can’t risk losing them too.”

  Drake didn’t give her false platitudes, didn’t say, You won’t. He simply pulled her into his arms and held her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Frustration ate at Drake as they walked back through the trees to his cabin. He wanted to do more than provide Rosa a temporary refuge from the media. He wanted to hunt down the creep who had taken the pictures—and every single person involved in buying and running those pictures both online and in print—and tear them all to shreds with his bare hands. He wanted to find a way to scrub the Internet of any pictures she hadn’t authorized.

  And he wanted to make damned sure that Rosa’s family didn’t turn their backs on her for wanting out of the show.

  “It’s so peaceful here. So quiet and full of trees.”

  He lifted her hand to his lips, brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “If you think this is quiet, you should see my father’s place in the Adirondacks. Makes Montauk seem like Times Square.”

  “It sounds as though you like it a lot. Did you ever consider getting a cabin in the Adirondacks instead of the Hamptons?”

  “The Adirondacks are his place.”

  “No reason it couldn’t have been yours too.”

  “It’s always seemed like he wanted his space.”

  “Maybe from bad memories, but I can’t imagine he’d want it from his kids. Especially not a son like you. That would be crazy.”

  “An
d I think it would be crazy for your mom to even think of turning away from a daughter like you.”

  Neither of them said anything more about it as they took off their coats and boots and headed inside. Drake gave Oscar a good rubdown with a towel, and once free, the dog did a frisky circle run around the living room, knocking the small canvas off the leather chair.

  “It looks like a kindergarten project,” Rosa said as she hurried over to pick it up. “I hope you don’t mind my wasting one of your canvases.”

  He’d wanted to ask more than once if he could look at what she’d been working on the day before, but he kept getting distracted by taking off her clothes and loving her. “Can I see it?”

  “It’s just a hobby,” she prevaricated, but at least she handed him the canvas instead of continuing to hide it.

  She’d stitched an ocean of blues and greens into the small canvas, but instead of simply echoing the view out his front door, she’d approached it in the way he imagined Picasso would have during his Cubist period, if the artist had used thread instead of paint.

  He was about to tell her how talented she was when she said, “Now you know why I don’t share my stuff on the show. I see things in a weird way—not like other people do. Stitching on clothes is one thing, but the other stuff I come up with?” She shook her head. “It’s not what anyone wants to see from me.”

  “How do you know that?”

  She looked at him as though he were several brain cells short of a full set. “The stuff I make is weird. Everyone at the network agrees. The producers. The PR team.”

  “If they all agree, then none of them know a damn thing about art.” He moved closer. “Or is that really the reason you don’t share your art with anyone? Because you’re seriously talented.”

  “You’re sleeping with me. That colors your opinion.”

  “Bullshit.” He moved closer again, close enough that her canvas was now pinned between them. “I’m sleeping with you. You have a brilliant gift. Those are two totally separate things. People need to see this, Rosa, see what you can do. See things in a new way—your way.”

  “No!” Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wild as she pushed away from him, dropping the canvas so that he had to catch it before it hit the floor. “Everything else in my life is public. Open. Exposed. I need one thing, one private thing that I don’t have to share. What I do with my hands, with my brain, behind closed doors, is mine.” Her mouth wobbled a little as she added, “I thought closed doors meant it was mine, anyway.”

  The fury that rose in Drake whenever he thought about the pictures that had been taken without her consent was familiar now, but not at all dulled by repetition. On the contrary, he got angrier every single time. And now, he hated that she felt she needed to hide her art. He couldn’t imagine not being able to share his creations, instead hoarding them in attics and locked closets. It would be like strangling the core of what made him who he was.

  “I want to help.” He made himself un-fist his hands, tried to calm down so that he wouldn’t feed her tension with his. “Tell me how I can help.”

  “You already have. You helped with my car and got me to the motel and have fed me more than once. You’re the friend I needed more than anything right now, but never thought I’d find.”

  “I didn’t know I needed one either,” he told her, “but then you showed up in the middle of a rainstorm, and it turned out I did.” He paused before adding, “Friends let friends help, especially with the tough stuff.”

  “Thank you,” she said in a soft voice. “I know you mean well, but I can’t see that there’s anything you, or anyone else, can do at this point to erase what’s out there.”

  “Like I said before, my family is really well connected.”

  “Who could be connected enough to help get rid of the pictures?”

  “My cousin is Smith Sullivan.”

  “Smith Sullivan? The movie star?” Her eyes widened in a way that was almost comical, she was that shocked. “You’re one of those Sullivans?”

  He nodded. “My brother Alec is really well connected too, since he sells half his planes to people in TV and movies. And I’ve got another cousin, Ian, who’s a billionaire. He’s got to know someone who might be able to help.”

  “Wow. I had no idea. None at all. Although,” she said as she looked back toward the pictures hanging in his hallway, “I probably should have seen the family resemblance. Still,” she said with a shake of her head, “even if one of them was willing to get involved—and I definitely wouldn’t want to drag any of them into my mess—I already know there’s no way to erase the pictures.”

  Ignoring the part about dragging his family into her mess for the moment, he said, “Maybe erasing them isn’t an option—not unless my sister can come up with some new software. But what if there’s a way to make sure no site or magazine ever runs them again?”

  “How?”

  “Someone like my cousin has got to have some power over the media. I’m thinking if he takes a stance against what happened to you, the major players aren’t going to want to piss him off.”

  “Smith is easily one of the most powerful people in Hollywood, and I’m sure no one wants to get on his bad side,” she agreed. “But why would he do that for me? For someone he’s never even met, especially someone from reality TV, which is about as far south of his Oscar-winning movies as it gets.”

  “Because he’s a good guy, for one. And because family supports family.”

  “Of course he should support you. But I’m not family.”

  “You’re with me, so you are.”

  “No one is supposed to know I’m here, or even that we’ve met.” He watched panic bloom as she added, “You agreed.”

  “I did, but things aren’t that simple anymore.” He put down her artwork and reached to pull her close again. “You’re not a stranger now, Rosa.”

  He weighed letting out the word love. Wanted more than anything to tell her just how deep his feelings for her ran. But he knew she wasn’t ready to hear it yet, not when she was still trying to keep to an agreement that had been made before they’d come to know each other.

  Still, he needed her to know, “I’m falling for you. My sister saw it in my paintings, saw what I feel for you, saw that I was already falling that first day.”

  She swallowed hard, shook her head again. “You can’t.”

  “I am. And I know I should have told you this before now, but that first day, after I took you to the motel, I called Smith.”

  “You did what?” She yanked herself out of his arms, and he made himself let her go so that she could let the steam out. “How could you? You promised me you wouldn’t tell anyone we’d met.”

  “I kept my promise, Rosa, but I also asked him if there was anything he could do to help you. I told him I couldn’t say more, just that it mattered to me.”

  “He’s not stupid. He must have put two and two together.”

  “Good.”

  “I’ve already told you why that isn’t good. People will think you’ve lost your mind if you’re with me. They’ll look at your paintings differently. You’ll lose their respect.”

  “If this is what losing my mind feels like, I’m all for it. And I learned early on that people’s reactions to my paintings don’t have a damn thing to do with me, but everything to do with them. As for respect? As long as I can look myself in the mirror every day, I’m good.”

  “You don’t know how mean, how horrible people can be.”

  He could see in her expression just how much vitriol she’d had to deal with over the years, and it only infuriated him further. It wasn’t just her mom and the creep photographer from whom he needed to defend her—it was millions of strangers who didn’t know the first thing about her, even if they thought they did.

  “I don’t want you to end up hurt because of what people think of me.” Oscar got up to lean against her side, and she looked down at him. “You either.”

  “No, damn it,” he said
, his intention to tread carefully flying out the window when every word she said was taking them closer and closer to good-bye. “You think staying is what will hurt me—and I’m not just talking about staying in Montauk. Staying with me wherever we are, wherever we go. But it’s exactly the opposite. The only way you can hurt me is to run.”

  She didn’t say anything in response to that, simply stared at him with big, sad eyes. She wanted to believe him, he could see that. And it was impossible to deny the depth of their physical connection. But after being burned so badly, she obviously still needed time.

  Time that was running out way too fast.

  “I understand that you’re wary about getting into a relationship while everything in your life is in flux. But I’m pretty sure we don’t get to pick and choose when the right person comes along.” His chest clenched as he pulled her tightly against him. “And I sure as hell don’t intend to lose you now that I’ve finally found you.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Never in a million years would Rosa have imagined she’d meet a man like Drake during the darkest hours of her life. But she had. Only, where anyone else would have been reveling in being with someone so wonderful, she was doing everything she possibly could to remind him—and herself—why it could never work. Especially not right now, when everything in her life was such a total, freaking mess.

  But what if Drake was right about not getting to pick and choose when the right person walked into your life? And what if she finally let herself stop worrying about hurting him and allowed herself to fall head over heels in love with him instead?

  Oh God.

  Love.

  She was falling in love with him.

  If Oscar hadn’t been sitting against her side keeping her steady, she might have toppled over from the shock of realizing just how deep her feelings ran.

  She’d already told Drake how scared she was of losing her family. Now, with the shock of her realization still vibrating through her, she had to tell him, “I don’t want to lose you either.”