Swinging On A Star

by Olivia Jaymes

  That was a truly disturbing thought. Max wasn’t even sure he liked who he was. Certainly Alana hadn’t liked many facets of his personality and had complained about them on multiple occasions. He’d driven her into another man’s arms because of his neediness. He liked to cuddle, talk, say I love you every day. When he was in a relationship he wanted to spend as much time with that person as possible. Alana had hated that, said she felt suffocated and that any woman who had her own life and career would feel the same.

  “I see,” he said, stalling for time. He wasn’t sure how to respond. Clearly she thought it was a good thing and she seemed to like what he’d revealed but that was a small part of who he was. Showing her all of himself wasn’t something he was eager to do. “I do have to keep up somewhat of a mask for the public. You’re correct when you say that I don’t know who to trust or what others want from me. It’s not easy to become close to new people in my life. I tend to depend on my old friends or those who are also in the business and in the same position I am. They…understand.”

  She gave him a lopsided smile. “And I’m not in either of those categories. I get that. I just want you to know that you can trust me. I don’t want anything from you, Max. We’re here to help each other and it’s a mutual agreement. I’m not looking for money or fame. I just want to be able to hold my head up high, that’s all.”

  In his experience, everyone wanted money and fame.

  Okay, maybe not everyone but almost everyone. The only difference was what people were willing to do to get it. Alana, for example, had been willing to not only fuck him but marry him to get what she wanted.

  What was Carrie willing to do? She might not even realize that she wanted more, but when it was offered to her she’d grab it with both hands.

  “I want you to be able to do that,” he finally said. “That’s what we both want. If we work together we can get through these next few months.”

  Smile faltering, she took a sip from her water glass. If she’d hoped for some deeply personal revelation from him she was probably quite disappointed. “That’s good then. You know…that we understand each other.”

  Max didn’t need for her to understand him. He needed her to do what he was contracting her to do. They didn’t have to get all emotionally sloppy here. He liked Carrie, she seemed like a sweet woman but he wasn’t looking for a relationship. He’d had one of those already and it hadn’t turned out well. He bloody well wasn’t ready for another one, not yet. His heart was still in shreds from the chaos Alana had wrought.

  If he’d been anyone else but who he was, he would have gone off for several months and licked his wounds. But he was a famous actor and in the spotlight, and he wasn’t allowed to be heartbroken.

  The show must go on, and he with it.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The next morning over coffee and a Danish Carrie called the stylist, a friendly girl named Lisa, and set up an appointment for the next day but made sure to warn her about her measurements. Lisa wasn’t getting a supermodel to style but she seemed fine with it. If she wasn’t, she was too polite to say so.

  She’d just hung when her phone buzzed again. Greg. This was unusual. Their normal call pattern was once every few weeks or when something major happened. Her stomach clenched with fear as she thought about her niece and nephew. Had something happened or had he butt dialed her just to give her a heart attack?

  “Hey big brother, didn’t I just talk to you? Is everything okay?”

  “You’re in the news.”

  No hello. No how are you. Just you’re in the news.

  “Did I win that Nobel Prize I’ve been campaigning for? I assumed I was a shoo-in.”

  She was playing with Greg but she had a feeling she knew what he was talking about. Those paparazzi last night had taken their picture and one or more of them had probably ended up in some tabloid rag.

  “Funny, Carrie. I’m being serious here. You’re on the internet.”

  Already tapping the keys of her laptop, the photos were incredibly easy to find once she typed in the search phrase Maxwell Hayes’s new girlfriend.

  Bingo. Time to drop the bomb on poor brother Greg.

  “I guess I didn’t mention that I’ve met someone.”

  “You’ve met Maxwell Hayes? Funny you should say that because I’m having a secret affair with Angelina Jolie.”

  Inwardly sighing, Carrie tried to remember the rehearsed explanation but it had fled her brain when she’d seen the tabloid photos.

  “Funny, big brother. I’m serious. I’m…dating Maxwell Hayes. He’s a friend of Nate Mason, Paige’s husband.”

  Lightning didn’t strike her down for telling that huge fib. Interesting. Her parents had lied about that.

  “So…wow…okay. I saw the photos and figured something was up but I just assumed you were doing work for him or something.”

  “Work?”

  “You know, like assistant work. The stuff you do for Paige.”

  Like most people in her life, Greg thought she was pulling down minimum wage fetching lattes for Paige. He didn’t seem to get her job responsibilities and frankly she’d been too busy to educate him.

  “Well, we’re dating.”

  Silence.

  “Greg? I said we’re dating.”

  “So I guess that’s good then? You must be over Mark.”

  Actually, now that he’d brought her ex up, she realized she hadn’t thought about idiot Mark in quite awhile.

  “I am,” she said firmly. “Max is a great guy.”

  Sometimes.

  “So you were out on a date with this movie star?”

  “Max and I were chased by some photographers last night when we visited the Eye. It’s no big deal, Greg.”

  It wasn’t a small deal either. Her likeness was splashed all over a couple of UK tabloids with some pretty lurid headlines.

  Hayes rebounding with mystery redhead

  Has Max given up on Alana?

  Is that a baby bump? Why Max gave up on Alana

  Mystery redhead soothes Max’s broken heart

  Baby bump? As if. The way her life had been going lately it would have had to have been an immaculate conception. But she could see why the headline read that way. At the angle they’d caught her, and in that particular jacket, she did look slightly pregnant. Or chubby. Maybe she should be happy no one called her fat. Or plain. They just called her a mystery which for now was fine.

  “They think you’re pregnant, Carrie. I’d call that a big deal. I mean…you’re not, are you? It’s okay if you are.”

  Christ on a pogo stick.

  “I know it would be okay but rest easy, Greg, I’m not. Not even a little bit. It’s just the press trying to sell papers. When I don’t give birth in a few months, they’ll realize they’re wrong. Of course by then they will have made up a dozen or so other stories. You need to not react every time they write something because I’m guessing it’s going to get worse.”

  Carrie didn’t trust Max’s ex not to try and win in the court of public opinion if she couldn’t win in court. Smearing Max, and maybe Carrie as well, might be the way to go about that.

  “Seems like a tough kind of relationship to be in, Sis. In the public eye all the time. I hope he’s worth it.”

  Interesting question. The glimpses of the real Max? Yes, he was worth it. The snotty guy who often showed up here? Not in the least. She’d thought she was getting somewhere last night when they’d talked but he’d closed himself off completely, the mask coming down. She’d watched as he’d transformed himself in seconds from a friendly, open guy to a stiff, cold asshole.

  “He is,” she said instead. Greg must never know the lengths she’d gone to keep her family and friends from feeling sorry for her. “He’s a good man. You’d like him if you met him.”

  “Me and some British actor guy?” Greg laughed. “Sure, I bet we have a lot in common. Has he ever hunted gator?”

  Really, Greg?

  “No, and neither have yo
u,” she shot back. “Stop acting like you’re some kind of redneck. You’re an attorney, for heaven’s sake. You live in a gated community. You play golf on the weekends.”

  “I could hunt gator if I wanted to. In fact, I’ve been thinking about it.”

  Snorting, Carrie almost dropped her phone laughing. “Jeannie would never let you go in a million-trillion years. Now I really do need to go and I’m sure you have to take someone’s deposition or bill hours to some poor shmuck. Thanks for letting me know about the pictures. There may be more so you need to get used to it.”

  “I’ll never get used to seeing my sister in the gossip columns,” Greg grumbled. “Next time they try and take your picture, duck or something.”

  “Now why didn’t I think of that? Say goodbye, Greg.”

  “Goodbye, Greg.”

  That was an old joke between them and she was chuckling as they hung up, but her attention was quickly back on the photos. She didn’t look too bad in them. None of them were all that great, a little blurry as she and Max rushed in the opposite direction. It had been dark so their faces were illuminated by the flash and she didn’t like how pasty white she looked but Max was the same so it didn’t have anything to do with her. The only thing that could have made it any better was if she was five inches taller and twenty pounds thinner.

  Ahhh, wishful thinking.

  A knock on the front door pulled her from the pictures and she slapped the lid down on the laptop. It was probably Max. He’d sent her a text earlier that he would be by today with the executed contract.

  Pulling open the door, her mouth fell open when she saw who it was, standing at the door with an armload of pink roses in a delicate crystal vase. She’d never thought to see him again and just how did he find her?

  Tyler Gaylord, perverted changing room guy and Hollywood heartthrob. What in the hell did he want?

  Flowers. Smiling. Wait. Did he want…her?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Max tucked the executed copy of the contract into his messenger bag. His publicist had delivered it this morning during play rehearsals and Max wanted to give it to Carrie personally. If only because he was worried she’d changed her mind after her face appeared in those rags. It was one thing to agree to do this, but it was something quite different to have her face splashed across a supermarket tabloid. She might be having second thoughts.

  He needed her desperately and the tabloids’ coverage of their evening out only underlined that fact. Every single story had mentioned how Alana had another man, and a few of them out and out stated she’d cheated. Alana had indeed been unfaithful but Max’s people had been trying to smother that little nugget whenever it cropped up. It was bad enough that she’d left him; he didn’t need to be seen as not able to keep a woman happy.

  Then there was Carrie.

  He couldn’t tell if she was happy or not. She seemed so last night when she’d thought she had figured him out. Being around his old friend Albert, Max couldn’t help but be himself. But when it was just him and Carrie, that was an entirely different scenario. He needed to keep control of the situation at all times. If she gained the upper hand, he’d be at her mercy and he didn’t want to feel that way with a woman. Again.

  In a way, he already did. He needed her more than she needed him. His humiliation would be for the world to see while hers would encompass a much smaller circle. Frankly, she was doing him a favor. Maybe he should buy her a present to show his appreciation. In his experience women liked gifts. Flowers. Candy. Jewelry.

  Entering Nate’s key code for the gate, he bounded up the front steps of the house. Laughter drifted through the door and he hesitated, his hand raised to knock, as he heard the soft murmur of voices and the melodious tinkling of Carrie’s full-throated chuckle. She had company but who? He wasn’t aware that she knew anyone in London. It must be the stylist she was going to call.

  It only took her moments to answer after he rapped lightly on the door, dressed in a pair of faded denims and a bright blue sweater, her feet stuffed in fluffy white socks. Her cheeks were pink, probably from laughing and he had to admit – at least to himself – that he wished she looked that happy and carefree all the time. She always acted rather tense around him but then he did the same with her.

  “I have your copy of the contract.” Frowning, he peered around the doorway but couldn’t see who was in her sitting area. “Is this a bad time?”

  She waved him in. “No, come on in.”

  His friend Tyler Gaylord stood up from the love seat. A dozen pink roses in a vase were sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

  What in the hell was going on here?

  “Tyler, I thought you were in Milan.”

  His friend grinned, knowing full well what he was doing. Arsehole. “I was in Milan. Now I’m in London. Did Carrie tell you about our rather…unusual meeting?”

  Still eyeing the bouquet of flowers, Max cleared his throat before he inched over to Carrie and placed an arm around her waist, hoping Tyler took the hint. “She did and we had quite the laugh. You were buying something for your girlfriend?”

  Wincing, Tyler shook his head. “That didn’t work out. I’m back on the market. A free man.”

  Gaylord certainly went through the ladies at breakneck speed. “Too bad. Can’t seem to keep a woman can you, mate?”

  “I’ll worry about that when I find the right one.”

  It’s not Carrie, you randy goat.

  She must have seen Max’s increasingly unhappy expression.

  “We were just talking about good restaurants in the area.”

  I’ll just bet he was. Then he’ll ask you to go out to dinner with him.

  “There are several,” Max said, keeping his eye on Tyler who had his eye on Carrie. “If there is someplace in particular you want to try, Carrie, all you have to do is ask. I’d be more than happy to take you anywhere you want to go.”

  Maybe Max was laying it on a bit thick but he knew Tyler Gaylord and how he was with women. A total player who never looked back after he broke a heart. Max wouldn’t allow his friend to treat Carrie like that.

  His too pretty face wreathed in smiles, Tyler moved toward the door. “I guess I should be going. I have an early photo shoot in the morning. Carrie, it was lovely seeing you again.”

  “Yes, you should be going,” Max opened the front door. “You don’t want to be in makeup for hours tomorrow because you didn’t get enough rest.”

  Carrie elbowed him as she and Tyler hugged. They must have become close quite quickly.

  “Thank you so much for stopping by to check on me, and also for the flowers. They’re gorgeous.”

  She sounded way too enthusiastic. They were just roses, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like he gave her a handful of diamonds or a ticket to Bora Bora. She bid Tyler a goodbye before shutting it behind her with a firm click. Rounding on him, she leaned back against the oak slab and gave Max a disgusted look.

  “You were very rude.”

  “I thought I was quite restrained. What was he doing here?”

  She brushed past him and went to the refrigerator to retrieve a water bottle, holding it up in offering but he shook his head. “He was checking to see how I was settling in to London. It was very thoughtful of him to stop by.”

  Arching a brow, Max stalked forward to the coffee table and reached out a fingertip, tracing a velvety petal. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, acid rising in his throat. Carrie shouldn’t be entertaining strange men. It wouldn’t look right. What if the paps had caught her?

  “You know that Tyler Gaylord is one of the biggest playboys on earth? Possibly the biggest?”

  “I did know that,” she answered breezily, a smile on her face. “But I’m not the type to fall for a dozen roses and a smooth line. Give me a little credit.”

  He plucked a petal off a bud and let it fall to the table. “He was here to chat you up.”

  Snorting, she settled in a chair. “No shit. Listen, I may be dumb abou
t men but I’m not stupid. Besides, if I hadn’t figured it out his asking me to dinner would have tipped his hand.”

  A haze of red passed in front of his eyes. He was going to have a little talk with his friend.

  “He asked you out? He’s a fast worker, isn’t he? But I can see you didn’t tell him you had a boyfriend. You didn’t even introduce me as such.”

  “I didn’t need to,” she sputtered, her cheeks going red with laughter. “You did everything but pee on me to mark your territory. No words or descriptions were necessary. He got the not-so-subtle hint, Max.”

  “I simply greeted my girlfriend.”

  Her lips turned down and she shook her head. “You really believe that, don’t you? You don’t think you did anything wrong.”

  He straightened up to every inch of his six-one height. “I know I didn’t do anything wrong. He was in the wrong, coming here and bringing you flowers.”

  “He was very sweet to do that. He didn’t have any idea that I was seeing anyone.” She held up her hand. “I’m not wearing any rings, after all. He seems like a nice man and you could have been kinder. He’s your friend.”

  Astonished, Max barked with laughter. “Kind? To the man trying to steal away my girl? I think not. If anything I should have kicked his arse out of this house. You belong to me and only me.”

  The minute the words came out he regretted them. It was the exact wrong thing to say to Carrie and the fury in her expression was clear for anyone to see. Her eyes were bright with tears and her lips trembled, but not with fear or sadness. Carrie was beside herself with anger, and the way she kept fisting her hands and then relaxing them told him she wanted to smack him hard across the face.

  “Well, then…Thank you for bringing by the contract but I think it’s time for you to go.”

  Her tone was dangerously soft. He was walking on razor thin ice here. “Please let me apologize. That did not come out the way I intended it.”

  “Then tell me what you intended to say.”

  He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. Whatever he said was only going to get him into more trouble. Better to be silent and ride this out.