“You’d fallen asleep, Luna. I didn’t sleep a wink. I couldn’t bear to miss even a second of being able to hold you.”
A gulp trickled in her throat. “Charlie.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve only known my life with Amelia and my life without her yet still tethered to her. I’m terrified but I’m willing to try, if you are.”
“I am, too.” Still, joy was sparking out of her. No matter what happened, at least it didn’t have to end here and now. He was right—what did they possibly have to lose?
Although it was that sobering thought that robbed the smile from her face. Because there would be a lot at stake if they tried to turn this week into something more than a gateway to greener pastures, and then failed. He couldn’t take any more loss, and could she withstand the disappointment? What did she know about trustworthy relationships? They both had so much to learn. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea for him to come to LA, where all her terrors lived, waiting to attack her in the night. Maybe she’d be best to return alone, to tackle those old foes first.
But looking into his eyes, it seemed anything would be worth it not to have to leave him. She deserved companionship that made her feel good inside. Without having to actively do anything but be by her side, perhaps Charlie would be a buffer between her and the jackals determined to bring her down, as per their manifesto. And he wasn’t talking about relocating to California, was he? It was too early for a decision like that.
“I don’t know how long I can stay,” he said, beginning to provide answers to the inquiries marching across her mind like a strip of ticker tape. “As you know, I have in-person business in London I have to start attending to. But I can extend my leave for a bit. As a matter of fact, I have offices in Silicon Valley that I haven’t visited for years. It would be beneficial for me to pay a visit. See people face-to-face.” The high-tech bastion of Silicon Valley was just a short hour-long plane trip north from LA.
“So while I was sound asleep last night, you were concocting this whole plan?”
“That and more. I texted with an assistant to arrange for my private jet to take us to LA.” She loved that he’d drafted everything out, thought to tease and tickle her with his change of plans.
After they’d packed and double-checked that they hadn’t accidentally left anything behind, Luna sensed that Charlie was having the same thoughts as she was, as they took one last look throughout the villa. The secluded courtyard where they’d shared meals and secrets. The swimming pool where moods had been processed, fears laid wide. The ocean beyond where they’d played in the water and first merged bodies in the unplanned union they’d found with each other. Inside, the living room where Charlie kept his distance until there was no longer need for that. And the master bed where they’d shown each other beauty that surpassed the bright flowers and pink sunrises they’d witnessed. La Villa de Felicidad. Where two lonely souls met and had been changed for all of eternity.
“Ready?” Charlie asked and reached for her hand, the multiple meanings of his one-word question gonging through her head.
CHAPTER TEN
LUNA WAS NERVOUS while she watched her idyllic week in Puerto Rico get further and further from view as Charlie’s jet soared them high into the sky. She was elated to have him unexpectedly beside her, but not knowing what the future would bring for them worried her. And she had a lot to face when she got back to LA. A year away was a very long time. But a sense of fun won over her busy mind as they chatted during the flight. “Is there anything you haven’t done in LA that you’d like to?” she asked, momentarily forgetting that there were few places she could go without being recognized. While she’d been able to hide under sundresses and dark glasses in Viejo San Juan, the paparazzi in Tinseltown had a way of finding anyone and everyone, regardless of how hard they tried to be avoided.
“I’ve been to Los Angeles many times but I’ve never visited those really touristy places, like the stars on the sidewalk of Hollywood Boulevard.”
“The Walk of Fame. That’s a funny thing to think about seeing with me since one of those stars is mine!” She remembered the dress-up game she’d played for him at the beginning of the week, showing him how she could slide in and out of her movie-star persona. Would she be able to slip it on and off so easily once she got back to the town that only saw one of her dimensions?
“I want to see it. Will you take a photo of me with your star?”
They chuckled. Surely no one would identify her gawking at her own star, especially if she went far in the other direction by wearing baggy clothes and one of the wigs she kept at home for just such an occasion. She thought of Anush, who was on her way back to LA, as well. She’d texted with her a few times from Puerto Rico but hadn’t shared any details about Charlie because none of it seemed real. It was Anush who had taught Luna how to disguise herself so that she could go out in public, as long as she was careful not to look anyone in the eye or linger anywhere too long, as the paparazzi always seemed to spot her if she wasn’t ultracareful. She hoped the brutality of Los Angeles, her Los Angeles, wouldn’t be unbearable to Charlie.
* * *
As they landed at LAX, he’d taken it upon himself to book a limo. He wouldn’t have known that she usually traveled back and forth from the airport in a smaller town car. The driver of the stretch limo had to take extra caution to navigate the winding canyon roads that led to Luna’s house in the hills. The white wooden security gates swung open only after Luna punched an access code into her phone.
“Luna, this is marvelous,” Charlie said upon first glance of her sprawling home. She’d flown back a couple of times during her treatment in Kentucky, but she really hadn’t lived here for the better part of a year. A mixture of emotions ratcheted through her—she was glad to be back but somehow dreaded it at the same time. The limo driver unloaded their bags. With more key codes, she opened the main door.
“Let me show you around.” She gestured for him to follow her into the living room with its overstuffed furniture and wide-open space. Windows everywhere showcased views of LA, from the skyscrapers of downtown to the east, to the Pacific Ocean to the west.
“I don’t suppose it’s too difficult to wake up to a sight like that.”
“I’ve been very fortunate.”
Luna’s mind spun. She was showing herself the house as much as she was to Charlie. Her home, if LA even was home anymore. It was hard to take in at the moment. The quiet day-to-day of Kentucky, with its big sky, under which she’d uncovered, aired and then stomped out a terrible chapter of her life. Then there was tropical Puerto Rico with the spicy food, spicy music and this man who’d somehow landed in the living room of what was either her palace or her prison.
Charlie was in tow for the moment, but she knew better than to believe anything permanent would grow between them. He’d clearly said as much. His unexpected presence in her life had clearly been sent to her from the gods to be the final component of her transition and healing. Which she was certainly grateful for and she needed to keep a firm hold on that outlook. On top of the strangeness of being back in the house and with Charlie, far from their secret island bliss, was the fact that she was due on set tomorrow after her long absence.
She knew what to expect. There’d be staring and assessing and gossiping. She didn’t particularly like the director of this film, finding him arrogant and sexist in the telemeetings they’d had. Not to mention that she was bored with the big films she was cast in, always as the love interest or sidekick to a man, and never a powerful woman. Too fragile-looking. That had been the latest explanation a casting director had given when she’d missed out on a role she’d wanted. You could blow her over with a slight breeze. Luna knew that wasn’t who she was. But she also knew that filmmaking relied on archetypes and her place in the mythology wasn’t going to change. That’s why she’d thought about making her own movies, telling her own stories. But after a
year away from this industry town, she had to play by the rules first, step back into the high-heeled stilettos she used to wear.
“What a kitchen,” Charlie remarked, entering the large red, white and chrome room. Memories twisted in Luna’s gut, though, as they stood in the center of the open-plan layout. Because when her eating disorder had held her in its tight grip, the kitchen had become a frightening torture chamber in the hills, a circus-funhouse mirror of distortion. A place where what, when and if to eat, or not eat, occupied hours, days—it had been an agony that would seem petty or privileged to someone who didn’t understand the hold of the disease. For a long time now, an organized eating schedule and all of the therapy she’d undergone had helped her exist without being in battle with herself and with food, but recollections of the chaos came flooding back to her nonetheless.
“I’m sure the kitchen at your mansion isn’t exactly a hob and a hearth,” she said quickly, hoping the sound of her own voice would drown out the unwelcome thoughts.
“It’s enormous, actually. Several ovens, refrigerators and dishwashers. Easily able to cater parties for a hundred. Of course, it’s absurd that it’s only for me. Even when Amelia and Lily were there...” His words trailed away while his jaw ticked in the interim. Then he continued, “In any case, it’s strictly the domain of the staff. I never step foot in it. I wouldn’t have a clue where anything was kept.”
“Maybe while you’re here we should try to cook the mofongo like we did when Chef Diego gave us our lesson.” Dorada was thousands of miles away now, both literally and figuratively.
“I’d love that.”
Next, she showed him her bedroom. While she had plenty of other spaces where a guest could stay, even a detached cottage by the pool, she assumed they would share a bed during his time here. Remembering that he didn’t sleep well and had set up his own private domain within the open walls of the villa, she pointed to the sequestered alcove in the room that had a desk and chaise lounge that she used to use as an office. “Feel free to make that area yours.”
As his eyes scanned the room, she could tell he was as full of apprehension as she was. It had been one thing to talk about him coming to LA and being incorporated into her life, if only for a limited amount of time, but it was quite another to actually do it. They were as awkward as if they’d just met, not acting like two people who’d bared both their souls and their bodies to each other for almost a week. His suit of armor was back on, whereas she felt like one long open wound that hurt to touch. What a pair.
Luna glanced at the bed that the housekeeper had freshly made up for her return. She and Charlie could make love right now. Perhaps that would bring back the ease they’d begun to feel with each other at the villa. Somehow, though, that didn’t seem right. She had an idea. “Do you want to go out for a drive?”
* * *
They were meandering down a Los Angeles canyon road driven by actress Luna Price in her electric-powered sports car. Had Charlie’s famous insomnia played a trick on him yet again? Was he actually hallucinating? From the heat of August in England to the Caribbean steam of Puerto Rico to the arid scorch of the west. His world had been tipped upside down.
“Do you usually drive yourself around town?” he wondered, as she’d spoken so often about the unrelenting attraction of the press to shiny objects such as her. “Surely the tinted windows of a bodyguard’s vehicle is more in keeping with the life of a glitterati.”
She turned down the rock music she’d been blaring ever since they’d gotten into the car in her covered garage. Explaining that the housekeeper had maintained her cars in her absence, she chose the smaller of the two, the other was an SUV, for their jaunt. Neither were superflashy but he’d still been surprised she kept cars at all. “It’s just too unbearable not being able to just hop into a car sometimes and get away. That was an autonomy I wasn’t willing to sell. Believe me, the studio will send a car first thing in the morning tomorrow.”
He had to admit that Luna looked incredibly sexy as she competently maneuvered the sharp twists and treacherous cliffs of a drive she obviously knew well. With the windows down, her golden waves flew through the air and her unmadeup face glowed. His mouth tipped a private smile at the fun they’d had dressing her down for their outing. The exact opposite of when she’d put on her glamazon gear at the resort.
“What do you think?” she’d asked him, emerging from her bedroom closet when they’d decided to go out. In athletic shorts made of a synthetic material, blue with yellow stripes down the sides, coupled with a loose grey T_shirt and sneakers, Luna Price surely did know how to take it down as well as she did to amp it up. In fact, she looked like a skinny young college student in the getup.
“Decidedly less than glamorous, if that’s what you were going for,” he’d answered with a nod. “And now what, a baseball hat?”
“Mmm, that’s a tricky one. The paps are usually on to women in baseball hats. Pick me a wig.” She’d pointed to her dressing area, where a shelf held half a dozen wigs on pedestal stands. One was a short, brunette hairstyle. Another, shoulder-length and curly. Another still was long but very dark and stick-straight, unlike her own glorious blond waves.
“How about this one?”
“Grab it. I’ll put in on when we get out of the car. And a hat, too.” She’d pointed to a rack that held an assortment of styles. He’d chosen a black bucket hat. Then she’d pointed to the door and said, “Vámanos,” reminding him that even though she spoke Spanish, no words in any language had been needed when it came to the brazen thrust of his body against hers during those erotic nights at the villa. Charlie still didn’t know how he’d let himself end up in Los Angeles. But just as Luna found benefit in time away from an environment that had become unhealthy for her, maybe it was the same for him.
When they arrived onto flat ground at the bottom of the canyon and then drove to the tourist section of Hollywood Boulevard, Charlie guessed where they were going. “I get to see the famous Luna Price’s star on the Walk of Fame?”
“You and the ten million who visit annually,” she said, stopped at a red light while a countless throng crossed the busy boulevard. She put her arm over her face to block it. Then she turned onto a side street and parked, obviously knowing exactly where her particular star was located.
Once she cut the engine, she looked all around to make sure no one was watching. With the coast clear, she deftly twisted her own hair into a tight spiral and affixed the dark wig to her head. Tilting the rearview mirror toward her, she adjusted and tucked until not one strand of her own lustrous hair was visible. She then topped the wig with the bucket hat Charlie had selected for her. Already wearing sunglasses, her camouflage was complete. Indeed, she didn’t look much different than many of the other people strolling down the street. They got out of the car and she tapped her key fob to hear the ping that the doors had been locked.
He was confused by all the quick changes. The movie-star act she had put on at the villa. Now the camouflage just to walk down the street. What about the other her, the flesh and blood of the woman he’d been making love to with all of his might? He couldn’t get a footing.
As they walked up to Hollywood Boulevard, she offered some historical perspective on the sidewalk stars. “The first ones were placed on the ground in 1958. Now there are more than two thousand six hundred of them, stretching the length of about a mile.”
While Charlie had held meetings in deluxe offices in Century City, browsed the designer shops of Rodeo Drive and eaten cutting-edge tasting menus in the restaurants of celebrity chefs, he’d never just been a tourist on Hollywood Boulevard. Luna rounded the corner, passing businesses peddling everything from pizza to souvenirs. There was even an oddities museum.
“Bus tours to the stars’ homes! Bus tours to the stars’ homes!” a hawker yelled out, trying to book seats for his next departure. He called over to Luna, “Would you like to see where the
movie stars live, miss?”
“Not this time,” she answered politely then snickered to herself.
“Do those people know where you live?” Charlie asked when they were out of earshot.
“Thank heavens, no. It’s mostly a scam. Maybe a house where someone stayed a long time ago or where some older star from the Golden Age once lived.”
“Feeding in to the Dream Factory.”
“Smoke and mirrors, honey.” Even though she said it in a mock glam tone, it jarred him that she called him honey. Was she just being flippant or was she implying something sincere?
Or maybe he still hadn’t met the real Luna yet. And maybe he never would. What if the woman in Puerto Rico was another persona she projected as a way to escape the star label that attracted eyes to her every move? Whereas he thought she was being earnest, it could have been quite the opposite. Perhaps she herself didn’t even know what was real. Regret flashed through him, and he questioned if he shouldn’t have come here to further unravel her and make things even more complicated for himself.
In front of a taco shop, among other five-pointed stars spaced an equal distance apart all up and down the boulevard’s sidewalk, was Luna’s.
“Look at that,” Charlie said, shaking his head at how surreal the moment was. “Luna Price. Do they all have the emblem of a movie camera under the name?”
“No. That’s for people in movies. There are others with television receivers, radio microphones and so on.”
“What are they made of?”
“I happen to know! They’re constructed from coral-colored terrazzo, which is chipped marble. And the rim, name and emblem are brass.”
“Don’t they do a big unveiling ceremony when they put in a new one?”
“That was a very special day,” she said wistfully. “Before Hollywood started to eat me alive.”
Harlequin Romance September 2021 Box Set Page 11
