Heartthrob (Hollywood Hearts, #1)

by Belinda Williams

  I hid a smile and then put the phone face-down on the table. “Sorry.”

  Lena reached over and turned it over again. “Tell him you’ll be there later tonight. Tim can drive you.”

  “No,” I protested. “That’s not necessary.”

  “What’s not necessary is you avoiding Jake. He adores you. I’m almost starting to wonder if you’re using me as an excuse.”

  I opened my mouth and then closed it again. Damn. She was partly right. Yes, I’d been working hard to get my designs done and wanted to keep her company, but I was also scared. Scared that what Jake and I had experienced was a one-off. At the time it had seemed so real, so right. Now, afterward, it lingered like a beautiful dream. Perfect yet surreal.

  “Why don’t you trust him?” she asked.

  “I do,” I replied immediately, then sighed. “Have you ever experienced something so amazing you thought it was too good to be true? Living here is a little like that to start with but then Jake, well . . . wow.”

  Lena pushed her plate away. She hadn’t eaten much again. Her appetite had been small all week and it made me dislike Duncan even more. “When I got the role in Missing You,” she said, referring to her first-ever movie role, “I thought it was too good to true. And then when it got all those positive reviews, and the offers for roles followed that, I couldn't believe it. I was still grieving Mom and I didn’t understand how life could be so bitterly cruel on one hand and so generous on the other. I almost didn’t take any of them.”

  “You didn’t? You never told me that.”

  “Your dad was sick and you’d started managing the restaurant. It hardly seemed fair to call you and moan about how famous I suddenly was and how traumatizing it was to have to choose from all those movie roles.”

  “Oh.”

  “Anyway, my point is, I didn’t trust in it. I can see you going through that now. Hollywood is like that. From my experiences so far, I’d say you’re exactly right.”

  “I’m sorry?” I asked, not following.

  She gestured around us. “This industry is founded on make-believe. I mean, look at this house. It’s ridiculous. You can’t trust in it and I’ve discovered that the hard way, thanks to Duncan.”

  I reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  She squeezed it back. “That’s OK. What I’ve learned is that the best thing you can do through it all is to trust in yourself. In the end, I went for those movie roles because it was what my heart was telling me to do. Listen to yourself, Ally. What does your heart say?”

  I cleared my throat because it suddenly felt tight. “That he’s genuine. That . . . ” I gave her a desperate look. “That I might fall in love with him if I let myself.”

  Lena smiled, a real smile this time that lit up her whole face. “Then please don’t fight it. Take the good when life hands it to you and enjoy it.”

  I glanced at the phone again. “Do you mind if I call him?”

  “Go ahead.”

  *

  It was after nine when Tim dropped me at Jake’s.

  I’d spent the hour-long trip in a state of anxiety. I kept imagining his touch and replaying in my head the way Jake’s hands had explored my body. Then I thought about returning home in a few months’ time and having to leave him behind. This started me arguing with myself about whether I even had to move home, which of course I did. I couldn’t live away from my family long-term. Even the idea of it felt wrong. I was a Valenti, for God’s sake. And besides, I had to earn a living. I couldn’t rely on Lena to prop up my design career forever. Which led me to wonder, did I really have a design career or was that all make-believe, too?

  By the time Jake appeared outside the big imposing gate at the front of his house and came to open the car door, my head hurt.

  “Thanks, Tim,” Jake said.

  “No problem. The roads were quiet.” That was practically an in-depth conversation for Tim.

  Jake helped me with my bag and I followed him inside. As soon as we were in the front hallway, I heard the frantic skittering of feet on the floorboards and prepared myself for a doggie greeting.

  I bent down to pet the mass of quivering fur. “Hi, Stella! Hi! Did you miss me?” She offered her paw to shake. “Well, that’s sweet. I missed you, too.”

  I looked up again to find Jake watching us with an amused expression.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You’re a dog person.”

  “No, I’m not. I’ve never owned a dog.”

  “You’re a dog person,” he repeated, like he knew me, which maybe he did. “OK, Stella. Sit. My turn.”

  The dog sat obediently and Jake gathered me in his arms and pushed me gently against the wall. Stella whined and I laughed.

  “My turn,” he repeated then kissed me.

  All the doubts, all the thoughts whirling around my head in the car, evaporated. Like it had been before, it was just the two of us and nothing else.

  “Why were you avoiding me all week?” he asked, nipping at my lips.

  “I, oh . . . I was busy,” I managed.

  “You were worrying. And I was busy too, in case you were wondering, but I still wanted to see you.” He stopped his teasing and deepened the kiss so it became hungry and demanding.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was—”

  He pushed my skirt up, his fingers slipping beneath my panties, and I moaned.

  “You were being a good friend to Lena, I know that. But what about me?” He grinned wickedly and I felt a bolt of desire shoot straight to my toes. “I have needs, you know. And so do you, I see.”

  I couldn’t talk because his finger was already wet and I was forced to throw my arm around his neck and hold on.

  He kept talking. “Do you know how much I’ve thought about you this week? When I’m getting breakfast, I’m imagining what you’d look liked sprawled on the countertop. When I’m in the shower I think about pressing you up against the glass. And when I’m in the bedroom? Well, perhaps I’d better show you.”

  I groaned as he slipped a finger inside me. Stella was still whining but she sounded distant over the sound of my heart pounding erratically.

  “Did you think about me?” His teeth grazed my ear.

  “Yes.”

  “What was I doing?”

  “Um . . . ”

  “Say it, Ally. What was I doing?”

  “This,” I whispered.

  He smiled and kissed me so hard my heels lifted off the floor.

  “What about this?” He pushed my shirt up and his fingers found a breast.

  “Yes,” I whimpered.

  “And what about . . . ” He removed his hands and reached around to his back jeans pocket, pulling out a packet.

  I put a finger to my swollen lips, watching as he deftly loosened his jeans and dropped them to the floor.

  So this was Jake being direct. I had to admit I kind of liked it. Alright, I loved it.

  He rolled on the condom and then pulled me toward him, his erection pushing against me.

  Jake brushed his lips across my shoulder. “Did you imagine doing this? Because I did.” He pushed my skirt up again and pulled down my panties. “Tell me what you were thinking, Ally. I want to hear it.”

  “I imagined . . . oh.” He lifted me up like I weighed nothing so the tip of him was pressing against me. “I imagined you . . . ” I trembled against him as he pressed against me. “I imagined everything, Jake. But mostly it was this.”

  “This?” he teased, his voice low.

  I released a shuddering breath. “You were fucking me, Jake. Please. Fuck me,” I begged.

  He buried himself in me and I cried out and Stella barked, dancing around us as if she wanted to join in the fun.

  We both erupted into laughter but it was the manic kind given our rather compromising position.

  “Stella. Bed,” Jake ordered, and she obediently trotted off down the hall.

  “Thank God,” I muttered.

  Jake lo
oked at me—really looked at me—his blue eyes shining. “Please don’t ignore me again, Ally.”

  It should have been weird that we were standing in his hallway, joined together, having a conversation, but it wasn’t.

  I shook my head, feeling too many emotions to count. Ashamed at my cowardice, awed by his hunger for me, and scared by my feelings for him. “I won’t,” I whispered. “I promise.”

  “Good.” He hoisted me up. “Now wrap your legs around me.”

  He carried me to the bedroom, jeans still around his feet. He pushed the door closed with his foot but it unbalanced us and we fell onto the bed, laughing again. He caught my gaze and his eyes darkened.

  It didn’t take me long to stop laughing.

  Chapter 30

  The next morning dawned sunny and cloudless. As we walked along Malibu Beach together with Stella, I couldn’t resist and paused to take a snapshot of the stretch of sand and surf with my smartphone.

  “It’s like a postcard,” I said.

  “You have seen a beach before, haven’t you?” Jake teased.

  I shot him an unimpressed look. “Yes, of course. Providence is only about an hour from the coast, but the beaches are different here.”

  “I know what you mean,” he agreed. “It’s why I like living here.”

  “Because you feel like you’re on vacation?”

  He chuckled. “Occasionally. There’s something about this stretch of coastline that makes me feel optimistic.”

  I understood what he meant. The eastern coastline was beautiful, but here in California everything felt brighter somehow. Maybe it was the different architecture. Back home the coast was dotted with historic Cape Cod houses, whereas California was a lot more modern. Or perhaps it was simply the climate. It was the middle of winter and I was quite happy wandering along the beach with a hoodie on. It would be ten degrees cooler in Providence and the icy wind would cut through me like a knife.

  “It’s not too Hollywood for you?” Jake asked.

  “No. But maybe I’m becoming influenced by the company I keep,” I admitted.

  “What? Stella? I guess she can be an attention seeker.”

  I nudged him with my shoulder. “No, you, you idiot.”

  “You weren’t calling me an idiot earlier.”

  I blushed bright red and he grinned shamelessly at me.

  “Actually, come to think of it, you weren’t saying my name much, were you? Should I be worried?” he asked.

  “I couldn’t form words,” I muttered.

  “Didn’t stop you from being loud. Ow!” he said when I swatted him. In response, he pulled me to him and kissed me. “I like you loud.”

  I laughed into his lips and pushed him away. “You must have had a reasonable idea I’d be vocal.”

  “Come back.” He grabbed me for another kiss then reached around to squeeze me on the ass.

  I batted his hand away. “Haven’t you had enough?”

  “Never. We haven’t done it on the beach yet.”

  My eyes widened. True to his word, Jake had given me an exhaustive tour of the bedroom, kitchen and bathroom, but I wasn’t sure about encouraging more public displays of affection.

  “Are you sure there’s no photographers?” I asked for about the tenth time.

  “It’s early and Chris would be on it if he suspected anything,” Jake repeated, also for about the tenth time.

  My expression turned serious as I recalled Chris’s appearance that morning. Jake’s high profile certainly took some getting used to. When Jake had suggested a walk along the beach, Chris had materialized out of nowhere and informed us it was safe to go out.

  At my horrified expression Jake had squeezed my hand. “He lives next door, Ally.”

  Chris had smirked and slid the door open for us. Now he was following a distance back, looking for all the world like he was a guy going for a walk alone.

  Jake noted my silence and his eyes danced mischievously in the sunlight. “I get it, Ally. You’re embarrassed to be seen with me.”

  He leaned in for another kiss and I squirmed out of his grasp. He lunged and tried to grab me again, but I squealed and ran away.

  “Come on, Stella!” I called, happy to make a game out of it. It would be the best way to forget I was falling for one of the most famous men in the world.

  The dog barked and ran alongside me, her tongue hanging out like she was poking fun at Jake, too. We settled into an easy jog. It didn't take long for Jake to match our pace.

  “You’re a natural runner,” he commented.

  “When my lungs aren’t giving out.”

  “You’re barely puffing.”

  I shot him a surprised glance. He was right. Since when had I stopped struggling for breath when I was running? It must have been all the sessions on Lena’s treadmill.

  “Why do you look so shocked?” Jake asked.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted, still secretly amazed that I was able to have a conversation while I exercised. “I guess I just never thought of myself as a runner.”

  “Practice and self-belief,” he stated like it was an automatic response.

  “You make it sound so easy, Mr. Life Coach.”

  “It is.”

  “We’ve been through this, remember? You: genetically gifted. Me? Not so much.”

  “Yet here you are running like it’s the most natural thing in the world.”

  “Yeah, but I’d never win any competitions like you did. It’s not like I was born into team Swan like you were.”

  “You’d be surprised at what you can do.”

  Something in his tone of voice made me glance over at him. It was like a dark shadow had been cast over him, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

  “Jake?”

  He shook his head and we kept running in silence. I didn’t push, as much as I wanted to. If being close friends with Lena had taught me anything, it was to listen more and speak less.

  After a while, he cleared his throat. “I hated football.”

  I slowed my pace to a walk and he did the same.

  “Why did you play, then?” I kept my voice low as an older couple walked past us. Either they were used to seeing celebrities or they didn’t know who Jake was, and they didn’t bat an eyelid.

  “It was expected of me,” he said after they were past us.

  I considered his answer. I could understand that. It was expected of me to support my family’s restaurant, the same way it had been expected of me to step up when Papa was sick.

  “What about college football?” I asked. That seemed a whole other level of serious.

  He shook his head and reached over and grabbed my hand, like he needed something to hold on to. “By then it was all I knew.”

  “I know my situation isn’t exactly the same, but I get it.”

  He squeezed my hand. “I know you do.”

  And that was the way it was between us, I realized. It was like we knew each other already, like we understood one another without having to say the words.

  “But you’re braver than I am,” he said.

  I met his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  He looked away. “You had the courage to leave home and pursue your fashion design—”

  “Hardly. If it wasn’t for Lena—”

  He squeezed my hand again, silencing me. “You still acted on it. You took a chance.”

  “What are you saying, Jake? Surely you took a chance on acting? After your football career ended the way it did it must have been hard to imagine anything else.”

  He dropped my hand and let out a bitter laugh. I was so used to his easy nature, it sounded foreign to my ears.

  “I used to imagine a life without football all the time, I just didn’t have the balls to do anything about it.”

  “Surely it doesn’t matter now though? It was taken out of your hands.”

  He laughed again, louder and even more bitterly, and I stopped to stare at him.

  He stopped too and gazed
past me to the horizon. “I should have just told them I wanted to stop, but I didn’t. I kept playing until the thought of being on the football field made me physically sick. Toward the end I used to throw up before every game. Later, when I started acting, one interviewer asked me if I ever got stage fright and it took all my strength not to laugh. I’d been acting since I was a kid—every goddamn time I stepped out on that field. Every time I had to fake enthusiasm for a game I couldn’t stand. Acting was second nature to me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, at a loss as to what else to say. “That must have been awful.”

  “Not as awful as having everyone who knew me—everyone who loved me—in love with a version of me that didn’t exist. I was their star football player. They were certain I was destined to fame and fortune.” He choked on another laugh. “Kind of ironic now I think about it.”

  I placed a hand on his shoulder. “I don't understand why you don’t think you’re brave. Starting all over again is extremely hard.”

  He shrugged my hand away. “I don’t want you thinking that because it’s not true. If we’re going to be together, it’s better you know the truth about me.”

  The truth about him? I almost felt like I was starring alongside him in one of his movies. Jacob Swan wasn’t the type who had deep, dark secrets. Even the characters he played didn’t.

  “I’m sure whatever it is, it’s not that big a deal,” I assured him.

  He took a step back, but I closed the distance between us and took both of his hands.

  “Spit it out, Swan,” I demanded. “Or I’ll start to believe you’re one of those precious Hollywood types after all.”

  A faint smile touched his lips then it was gone. He met my eyes and they were filled with pain and regret.

  “I ran into that tackle.”

  “The one that injured you? Yes, I know. It was an accident. You couldn’t do anything.”

  “No. You don’t understand. It was deliberate.”

  I blinked, trying to process his words. “You could have avoided it?”

  “Yes.” Gone was the pain and regret. In its place was absolute certainty.

  “It wasn’t an accident?”

  “No. I wanted to be hit. I wanted to be injured.”

  Chapter 31