“The photographers, Jake,” I said through clenched teeth.
Another well-timed and rather needy ‘Jake’ drifted to us from across the street.
He blinked at me and then swore under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Ally. I didn’t think. I guess I’m just used to it and I understand why you don’t want to be seen with me—”
A bubble of hysterical laughter escaped my lips.
“What?” he asked, his forehead crinkling in a most attractive way.
“Yeah,” I blurted. “I mean, as if I’d want to be seen with you, Jake. Just think of what you’ll do to my reputation.” Despite my shaky legs and the general sense of displacement about being thrown into this insane celebrity world, it felt good to rely on some sarcasm.
A slow smile spread across his face and he held up a finger, indicating for me to wait. He stepped forward and chatted to a few of the bodyguards and, to my relief, they formed a row in front of us, blocking the view from the street.
He came back to my side and slipped an arm around my waist. “Better?”
Better? Better didn’t quite cover it. There was a bunch of women on a mission to capture the merest glimpse of Jake, and here he was putting an arm around me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I cleared my throat. “Better. So. What sort of movie-star car do you drive? Porsche? Ferrari? Or maybe a Lamborghini?” I joked.
Jake's lips quirked and I noticed him thrumming his fingers on the side of his leg. He didn’t say anything and shook his head.
I was enjoying the guessing game, or maybe it was just the need to distract myself from the pulsing heat emanating from my midsection where his arm rested. Either way, I persisted. “Are you an old-school guy?” I asked. “Classic Corvette or Mustang, perhaps?”
He shook his head again, looking as though he was biting back a grin.
“Current-day Mustang?” I guessed.
He met my eyes and they were filled with amusement.
“OK. European class. A hotted-up BMW or Audi?”
He remained silent, not giving anything away.
“Hmm. Oh, I know! Something big-ass and luxurious like a Cadillac.”
Another shake of his head.
“A Bentley?”
He didn’t even bother answering this time.
Damn. I was running out of ideas.
“Jake! Where do you think you’re going?”
We both turned at the sound of a woman’s voice, and Jake removed his arm from my waist. I froze at the sight of Faith striding purposefully toward us. She looked amazing, of course. A classic, elegant fitted black dress clung to her lithe frame, and her hair was pulled back tightly. It highlighted her prominent cheekbones and dark eyes, and the whole effect was a little too severe for my liking.
A temptress, I thought without wanting to. If I were to dress her—not that I was planning on it—I’d choose something unconventional. A flowing white pantsuit that would show off her elegant curves and have the effect of softening her. Instead of her usual muted lipstick I’d use bright red and I’d put her in a classic pair of black heels. The result would be a study in contrasts. Beauty and strength. Classic and modern.
“Hey.” She nodded at me when she stopped in front of us. “Nice dress.” She turned to Jake. “Answer the question, Swan. Where do you think you’re going?”
“Home.”
“Pussy.”
I let out a quiet laugh.
Faith returned her focus to me, her eyes narrowing. “Are you going home with him?”
More prepared for Faith’s abruptness this time, I just gave her an innocent look. It wasn’t even close to true, but hey, Hollywood was bringing out my petty teenage side.
Faith took a step closer, still studying me. “I didn’t pick you for his type.”
“What’s his type?”
Her eyes dropped to my dress and she scanned my outfit before meeting my gaze again. “Not you.”
Before I could think the better of it, I crossed my arms in front of myself and gave her a challenging look. “I guess real women are hard to find in this town.”
Faith’s eyebrows rose and her lips formed a sly smile. “Touché.”
“Back off, Faith,” came Jake’s deep voice. “I’m giving Ally a ride home.”
“To whose home?” she shot back.
Jake’s expression turned hard and she held up her hands. “Alright. I’m going. I know when I’m not wanted. Still, I’m disappointed you won’t stick around to party. You used to be more fun.”
With that, she left the same way she had come: swiftly and determined.
I forced myself to breathe out.
“Don’t worry about Faith,” Jake said. “She can be a bit protective.”
A bit? Why on earth would she be so protective of Jake? And was it protectiveness or jealously? It was obvious it was better to stay on her good side, but I had the feeling I’d lost that opportunity the minute I’d engaged Jake in conversation.
Before I could ask, a shiny black Ford Ranger pickup drove up. An athletic-looking guy with tanned skin and a bald head hopped out and tossed Jake the keys. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, which struck me as underdressed for a valet. Even the bodyguards were all decked out in suits.
For some reason the guy looked vaguely familiar, but I wasn’t sure why.
“Thanks, Chris,” Jake said, then glanced back at me. “You coming?”
I hesitated. “This is yours?”
“Yeah. What were you expecting?” He raised an eyebrow then walked toward the vehicle, leaving me standing alone.
I stared after him, then, realizing how stupid I looked, scampered to keep up with him, my heels skittering on pavement.
The guy called Chris opened the door for me and I stared up at the cabin. It was really high.
The far door slammed as Jake settled into the driver’s seat. “Problem?”
I put my hands on my hips and contemplated the step. “I’m short.”
“You’ve been exercising. You’ve got what it takes.”
I glanced down at my dress.
“There’s plenty of room up here. You won’t ruin it,” he promised.
“Would you like a hand?” Chris offered.
I shook my head and climbed carefully into the passenger seat. Chris closed the door firmly and I stiffened when I heard the rear door open. I turned to see Chris climbing into the back seat.
“Chris is my bodyguard,” Jake explained, like it was all completely normal. “And my driver when I need him to be.”
“Which hardly ever happens because Jake prefers to drive.” Chris’s deep voice was full of amusement.
I offered him a friendly smile then twisted back around to face Jake. “You mean you like driving your truck?” I teased, determined to pretend sharing a ride home with his bodyguard was no big deal. And so much for him owning some sort of flamboyant supercar.
“You bet. Sorry to disappoint you,” he said as we moved off.
“Not disappointed.” And I meant it. Actually, I was nearing overjoyed at the practicality of his vehicle choice. “Just surprised,” I admitted.
“That I’d drive a normal car?”
“That you’d drive a practical car,” I corrected. “You’re not exactly shifting loads of wood or working on a job site.”
“It suits Stella.”
I gripped the armrest on the door, my fingers turning white. “Stella?” I could kill Lena. She hadn’t told me Jake had a woman in his life. Or maybe she hadn’t known? And what sort of woman suited a four by four? Did she own a landscaping business? I was picturing a tall, strong-looking woman with flowing brown hair tied up in a ponytail, who got around in a pair of tailored shorts and a tank top, when I heard Jake clear his throat.
“My golden retriever.”
I heard Chris chuckle and pried my fingers from the armrest. “Stella’s a dog?”
Jake's eyes danced with laughter. “She’s blond. Don’t hold that against her.”
A ridiculous smile appeared on my face. “Your dog,” I repeated.
“Yeah, I drive a truck and own a dog. You got a problem with that?”
I shook my head. “Not at all.” I played with the hem of my skirt, secretly delighted. “Stella’s an interesting name.”
“Yeah, I know. I named her after an exotic dancer I used to date.” Jake grinned at my wide-eyed shock, and Chris’s laughter was louder this time.
I fought the urge to turn around and tell Chris to mind his own business, but unfortunately minding Jake was his business.
“Nah,” Jake continued. “When I picked her up from the rescue place that’s what she was called, so I didn’t see the point in confusing her and changing it.”
Right. So Mr. Heartthrob drove a pickup and owned a rescue dog. “You don’t adopt children too, do you?”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but no, I don’t. I hope to have my own one day, though.”
“You want to be a dad?” I wasn’t sure why it shocked me.
“Yeah. Don’t you?”
“A dad, no, but I’m confident mothering is in my Italian DNA. Not that I’m ready yet. I need a man first.” I winced and looked out the window, wondering what Chris thought of my honesty. Shut up, Ally.
Jake didn’t notice my discomfort. “Kind of helps. You’re young, I wouldn’t worry.”
“Tell that to my mother,” I muttered.
“Why?”
“I’m thirty-one. Once you reach thirty you obtain old-maid status.”
Jake chuckled. “You’re young,” he repeated. “What would she say about me? I’m not exactly getting any younger.”
“How old are you?”
We stopped at a set of traffic lights and Jake turned to face me. “You seriously haven’t googled me.”
I shook my head. “No.”
He turned back to the steering wheel with a strange expression on his face. “I’m thirty-five.”
“Mama would say that’s perfect,” I said, and reddened. “You know what I mean. Guys can have kids as late as they want.”
“It helps if there’s a woman.”
“Oh, come on,” I scoffed. “I’m sure there’s plenty of women. You’re in high demand right now.”
“I only need one.”
I closed my mouth. I didn’t have a smart reply to that. Only a pathetic sense of hope that what he’d said had a double meaning. Chris had fallen strangely silent, too.
To distract myself, I watched the lights of the city streak past and decided to change the subject. “Do you like living in Hollywood?”
“Do you?”
“It still feels like I’m on vacation,” I answered honestly, choosing to ignore that he’d answered my question with a question. “It’s so different to the East Coast.”
“You get used to it.”
“So this is home for you now?”
He shrugged and the motion looked slightly forced. “I’ve been here ten years.”
“No urge to return east?”
“None.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re lying.”
I saw him blink and his blue eyes found mine. They were vivid in the darkness of the cabin, charged with something I couldn’t identify. He looked away, leaving me feeling as though I’d been jolted by an electric shock.
“What I miss doesn’t exist anymore.”
Missed what? His mother? Or someone else?
Before I could ask him what he meant, he cleared his throat. “You keep surprising me.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. With your honesty.”
It was my turn to shrug but the movement came more easily. “It’s who I am.”
“I know.”
“That unsettles you,” I concluded.
“What? No. It’s . . . refreshing.”
I laughed. “Which is a nice way of saying I open my big mouth too much.”
“You don’t have a big mouth.”
Something in his tone made me look up and when I did, I stilled. His gaze was on my mouth. Self-consciously I licked my lips, darting a glance behind us toward Chris, and I saw Jake swallow. He returned his eyes to the road.
“So home then? To Lena’s?” His voice sounded rough.
“Yes, thanks.” I wasn’t sure what he was getting at. Where else would I go? When the obvious alternative hit me a moment too late, I wanted to slap my hand to my face in embarrassment. My mind whirling, I shifted in my seat to watch the view out the window.
Oh my God. Had I just turned down an invitation to spend the night with Jacob Swan?
Sure, he’d kissed me, but he kissed women all the time. He’d kissed Faith. He’d even kissed Lena.
Yeah, but he kissed you.
Without wanting it to, the memory of the taste of him—warm, spicy, deliciously sweet—tugged at me, and I put my hand to my mouth.
I was finding it hard to breathe. Correction. I was finding it hard to think. The enormity of what I had just done made my chest feel tight. Don't be stupid, I ordered myself. We were in a car with his bodyguard, for one. And besides, my answer would have been the same regardless.
No.
Ally Valenti did not get involved with movie stars. It was a mess waiting to happen.
I dared a glance at Jake. He remained focused on the road. If he’d considered my response a rejection, it didn’t appear to have bothered him. Or maybe he was a good actor.
Some mess. Some sweet, delicious mess.
No, I repeated in my mind. No, no, no.
Yes.
The word whispered through my body like a caress.
Well, it was too late now, I thought. I’d gone and screwed things up like I normally did by not thinking before I spoke. But I hadn’t screwed things up. Not really, because I was never going to sleep with him anyway—as much as my stupid body had other ideas.
“Are you tired?”
It took me a second to realize he was speaking to me. “Huh?”
“Are you tired?” he repeated.
“Sort of,” I admitted. “Although I think it’s going to take me a while to wind down from all the excitement of tonight before I can sleep. It’s not every day I make my debut as a fashion designer.” Or I turn down an invitation to go home with the Sexiest Man Alive . . .
Jake’s mouth cocked in a half smile. “Big night, hey? I usually find a walk helps.”
“A walk?”
“Yeah. Gets rid of the tension.”
“Lena’s house is pretty big. I could walk around that a few times,” I joked.
He didn’t laugh or smile. “I’ve got a better idea.”
“What’s that?”
He waited a beat, making me wonder if it was deliberate or a natural actor’s ability to build tension. “Trust me?”
Surprise rippled through me and I sat up straighter in my seat. The silence that followed felt heavy, but there was that word again—trust—floating in my mind, whispering through me.
And I did, I realized. I did trust him. I wasn’t sure why, but Lena had always said I was a good judge of character. She claimed it was what made me a good designer. And it wasn’t trusting Jake that was the issue anyway.
The real problem was trusting myself.
The quiet sound of it filled my ears again and the word settled easily on my tongue.
“Yes.”
Chapter 18
I was yet to explore Los Angeles properly. As we drove through the streets of the city, the palm trees reached higher and higher to the sky and the houses gave way to condos and high-rises. We had to be getting close to the water.
“Know where we are?” Jake asked when we stopped at a set of lights.
“No idea, but I’m guessing that’s the water over there?” It was nearing midnight and I could make out darkness on the horizon.
“Santa Monica. You haven’t been?”
“Not yet.”
“Another time.”
As we rounded the corner I spi
ed the famous Santa Monica Pier with the ferris wheel. It was lit up, a kaleidoscope of twinkling lights.
“You really haven’t been yet?”
“No. I guess I’ve been focused on designing.” I slouched in my seat as we drove in the other direction, away from the well-known attraction. He was right. What had I been doing all this time? I’d been in town for months and I’d hardly seen anything. Maybe Hollywood hadn’t changed me at all.
“It wasn’t a criticism.”
The amusement in his voice made me look up. “I know. I guess it just reminded me that I’m the same old boring Ally.”
“Why are you boring?”
I stared out the window, watching the black ocean as we whizzed past. “I’ve never exactly been adventurous,” I admitted. “Until two months ago I was a thirty-one-year-old woman living at home. Oh wow, that sounds even worse when I say it out loud.”
He laughed. Fortunately, Chris was now having a quiet conversation on his cell phone, so I was spared further embarrassment.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You were supposed to move away to study, weren’t you?”
“Yes, but Papa got sick.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re boring.”
“Maybe. I haven’t traveled, either. The furthest I’d ever been until I moved here was New York. Wow. Talk about a woman of the world.”
“You said you have a big Italian family?”
“Big doesn’t really cover it. We should have our own zip code by now.”
“There you go. Sounds like you’ve had everything you needed back home.”
I studied his profile, something inexplicable tugging at my heart. “Not everything,” I said softly.
He glanced at me and our eyes met. There was that electricity again, so full of energy it hurt. He looked back to the road and I dropped my gaze to my lap.
“When do you go back?” Maybe I was mistaken but his words sounded clipped. I didn’t dare to meet his eyes again.
“End of April.”
“Unless you hit the big time. What then?”
“Honestly? I have no idea. Everything up until this point has felt surreal. I half expect I’ll be back in the restaurant before I know it and all of this will feel like a dream.”
“Is it a good dream so far?”
I swallowed, still unable to lift my gaze. “Yes.”
Heartthrob (Hollywood Hearts, #1) Page 13
