He was a middle-aged, sinewy man with light blond, almost white hair and clear blue eyes. When he spoke, he still bore traces of his native Italian. He clasped my hands in his and gave me a kiss on each of my cheeks. "You are gorgeous, love," he said. "Have a lovely time."
I gathered the folds of my dress in my hands and started to head out toward the sitting area of the suite, where Jax was waiting. Lucian clicked his tongue behind me and darted to take the gown from my hands. "Let me help you."
"Thanks. It's just that this train is long —"
"I'll hold it for you."
So we walked like that into the suite, me in front, teetering on my silver stiletto heels that were a little too small, and Lucian behind me, holding my gown. Deep breaths were impossible, so I took a shallow breath before I opened the door, trying to ease the pinch at the pit of my stomach. I told myself that Jax's approval didn't matter. We weren't really dating, and how could I possibly compete with the gorgeous women who'd gone before me? Still, I wanted him to think I was beautiful. I wanted to see that approval in his eyes.
I opened the door and turned my head, looking for him. Then I heard it, the intake of breath. He came over to me from the balcony, dressed in a tuxedo with a gray vest. His dark hair was slicked back, and his cheeks were freshly shaved. He smelled nice, and a thrill darted up my spine as his gaze raked across my body. "Wren. You look stunning."
My fingers flew to one of the diamond chandelier earrings. "You too."
Then he frowned. "Be careful with the earrings. I have them on loan, so —"
And just like that, the cold splash of reality. I dropped my hand. "Of course. I'll return them."
The frown remained on his face, but he took my hand in his. "The driver is waiting."
There was a crowd gathered around the limousine, snapping pictures. Was this how it was to be someone like Jax? He leaned over to whisper in my ear, "Smile, darling."
But I couldn't smile. All I could do was keep my head down as we entered the limousine and stare, my heart pounding, as we finally drove away.
I will say this for Jax: he was committed to his role as my fake boyfriend. As we made our way through the crowd at the party, he held my hand or draped an arm around my waist. He must have sensed my anxiety because he'd relay funny stories about the guests to put me at ease. Sometimes it felt real — as real as anything like that can feel to an outsider.
Hodges Brennan had set his party in a Georgian-style revival mansion on the cliffs. Inside the house was a massive entertaining space with a stone fireplace and a black grand piano that transitioned easily to a slate patio overlooking the sea. Guests breezed inside and outside as they mingled, and gloved waiters bustled around us, nearly invisible as they offered champagne or hors d'oeuvres.
"You look tense," Jax said as he accepted something offered by a waiter and handed it to me. "Have an oyster. They're an aphrodisiac, you know."
I wrinkled my nose at the half shell he held out. "Ugh. No reason for that."
He lifted his shoulders nonchalantly. "If you want, I'll take you somewhere private. I'll bet I could loosen you up in fifteen minutes."
I'd almost become accustomed to Jax's blunt sexual advances, but something about this time was different. This time, the suggestion sent a bolt across my skin. "Okay. Let's go." Sometimes my mouth moves and there is no brain to back it up.
"Seriously?" His eyebrows arched sky-high. He set the oyster on a roving waiter's empty tray. "I thought I'd never get you to actually agree to it."
"Yes. I mean no. I'm not. I'm just kidding." Quick recovery, if a little awkward, and my cheeks were burning. "And I'm not even your type."
"It's not nice to tease." He wrapped one arm behind my waist and pulled me against him, bending forward until his lips tickled my ear. "I'd give you the ride of your life. Think about that."
I was thinking about it. All the time, in fact, and that had become a giant problem. Jax was consuming my thoughts the way a real boyfriend would, and everything about us was fiction. In a few days, a few weeks, tops, I'd be back to my completely ordinary life, albeit with a closetful of new clothes. Still.
I pressed my arms against the wall of his chest, trying to put some distance between us. "Thanks for the generous offer."
He smiled wickedly, his blue eyes intent on my mouth. Then, without warning, he kissed me. His lips were warm and soft. Deliciously skilled. As he pulled away, I wondered if it was foolish not to take him up on his offer. A gorgeous movie star wanted to have no-strings-attached sex with me. Maybe I should just dive off that cliff? The warmth of his mouth lingered on mine, leaving me momentarily breathless. Jax was breathless, too.
I stepped back and gave a casual smile that belied the emotional current threatening to break the surface. "Like I said. Thanks for the offer. If you'll excuse me for a moment."
The energy was so high that I couldn't stop shaking, and I made my way across the room, trying to get anywhere else, anywhere with air. The room was crowded and much too warm, and I had to turn my body this way and that to escape. I had to find someplace to hide, just for a few minutes. I made a beeline for the powder room and shut the door behind me.
Quiet. I could have stayed in there forever, with its lovely black granite counters and the expansive mirrors. I took a seat on a black chaise in the corner and felt my muscles melt against the leather.
"I haven't seen you before," the only other woman in the room said in a voice like warm honey. She was seated before the mirror, swirling a fluffy powder brush across her face. Her hair was dyed a light shade of red and pulled into a chignon that was secured at the top with a gaudy rhinestone barrette.
Maybe they weren't rhinestones. Probably not, knowing this crowd.
"It's my first time," I said.
"Oh." She glanced back at me over her shoulder, her voice heavy with meaning. "Honey, you gotta pull yourself together. The party's just getting started."
I sat up straighter, feeling self-conscious. "What do you mean? Do I look —?" I rose and headed to the mirror to check my face
"Yes, you 'look,' all right," she laughed. "You look like you're about to lose your caviar. What's the matter, don't like crowds?" She twirled the powder brush into a compact and took another pass at her face.
"Not really." She was right, I did look a little pale, even under all of that makeup. I gestured to the seat beside her. "Mind if I sit?"
"I'd love it if you did." She dusted her nose and then glanced at me sidelong. "You came with Jax Cosgrove, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"I knew it." She snapped the compact shut and reached into a pink bag to retrieve a tube of mascara. I recognized it as a brand that I could only dream about affording. "You've got to tell me, honey: is he all that he's said to be?"
"I'm sorry?"
She made a fluttering sound from her throat and turned to face me straight on. "I've heard he's blessed in the manhood department. He can go for hours, something about meditation. Am I right? Oh, never mind." She patted me on the thigh and giggled. "You're probably much too polite to kiss and tell. I wish you would, though."
I adjusted my dress and straightened my necklace, neither of which needed adjustment or straightening, just to have something to do other than to sit there and stare at the complete stranger who wanted to know about my sex life with Jax. "Things are, uh, fine," I muttered.
"You know, I just have to ask. Does he wax his twig and berries? Because I've heard he's bare everywhere."
"I don't — I haven't —" She was staring at me so intently that I had to look away, and I caught a glimpse of my scorchingly hot face in the mirror. I bit my lower lip, then said, "I'm sorry, I don't feel comfortable discussing my boyfriend's genitals with you."
Her penciled eyebrows shot upward. "Really? Most women love to do a little braggy-brag about the hot bodies they're banging."
Oh heavens. I started to get up to leave, but then I remembered that kiss. Jax was using every arrow in his quiver on me. I mi
ght as well respond in my own way.
"All right. Fine." I turned toward her and leaned in. "That rumor wasn't true. Until I met him. Then, I insisted on it."
Her mouth pinched in delight, and her blue eyes widened. "You made him wax."
"I did." I nodded. "The whole thing. We went to this little place I know and got matching Brazilian waxes. I had a special cream that I smoothed over him afterwards. A shea butter mixed with herbs. It stinks to Jupiter but it works. Takes the sting right out." I opened my clutch nonchalantly and applied a layer of lipstick before continuing. "Anyway, he wasn't even sold on the wax, thought it might be weird. I made him a believer. The experience was very intimate. Almost religious, really."
She was eating it up. "I can imagine," she breathed. "Tell me, what's it like to smooth lotion on a backside like that?"
"Oh." I set a hand on her knee and leaned in. "Let me tell you. Tight as a drum."
She sucked in a breath and leaned away, fanning herself with her hand. "Hoo boy. Am I going to have some sweet dreams tonight." She patted at her forehead with her fingertips. "I feel flushed. I really do. Feel me."
Without missing a beat, she grabbed my hand and touched my fingertips to her face. "Yes, you feel warm."
"I feel hot, don't I? Well." She shook her head, let out a long breath, and returned to her mascara. "I'm so glad I ran into you. Wren, right?"
I was famous in my own right! "Correct. Wren Mallory."
She unscrewed the top of her mascara. "And I'm Rubee Adams."
My breath froze in my lungs. "The blogger from Celebrity Burn?" It came out as barely a whisper.
"That's right. I'd shake your hand, but —" She waved the mascara wand in my direction and giggled. "My readers are going to be beside themselves about this little tidbit."
Oh no. No no no. "Uh, Rubee? I sort of told you that story in confidence."
"Hmmm." She stroked the brush up and down her lashes. "No, I don't remember you saying that."
"Okay." I set my hands down on the counter. "But you can't write about that in your blog. You can't. You don't even understand —"
"Oh, honey. I promise I won't use your name." She smiled and capped the tube. "Anyway, I'm going to use the W.C. now. You run off and have a good time. Maybe I'll bump into you later."
She gave me a kiss in the air and then headed for a black door fitted with a gold "W." and "C." I grabbed my clutch and slinked out of the powder room, feeling sicker than when I'd entered.
I walked zombie-like toward the slate patio and straight over to the stone railing. I couldn't see the ocean, but I could hear the waves breaking on the stones below. When I thought about the story I'd told in the powder room and how it would hit the blogosphere, my stomach heaved. I didn't even know why I'd told it, except that I'd been caught up in the moment, and I thought it was harmless fun… I'd betrayed Jax. Right then, I wanted to be anywhere but in my skin.
"Great party, huh?"
I glanced over and saw a petite woman with platinum-blonde hair pulled into a chignon taking a generous gulp from a flute of champagne. She was wearing a light-blue asymmetrical gown that flattered her figure and her defined arms. "Oh my gosh," I gasped. "Greta!"
She smiled politely. "Yes, Greta Applebea. How are you doing?" She extended her hand.
"Greta. It's me." Then, because she was still confused, I added, "Wren."
She frowned as she scanned my face. "Wren? Seriously?" Recognition registered. "Oh my — what are you doing here? I didn't even recognize you! Forget the handshake!" She pulled me into a tight embrace. "I haven't seen you in months!"
Greta and I had been friends in LA, where she was an agent trying to make a name for herself. That was the story of LA: everyone was trying to break in. The fact that she was here, at this party, told me that she'd managed to do exactly that.
"It's great to see you," I said.
She stepped back, her eyes wide. "Look at you!" She shook her head. "Everything. The hair, the dress…"
"Do you like it?"
"Like is an understatement." She lowered her voice. "Did you crash the party?"
"No. No. I'm here with Jax Cosgrove." I raised my chin. Jax had kissed me earlier. I was his date. Even if it was all an act, it still felt pretty darn cool.
"Shut the front door! I thought you swore off actors after Griff?"
I laughed nervously and glanced around, but it didn't look like anyone was listening in on our conversation. "It's sort of a long story."
She gave me a once-over and finished off her champagne. "I need to know everything," she said. "By the way, you know Griff is here, right? So's Poppy."
I'd expected as much. Still, my stomach nearly fell through the floor. "Where are they?"
She drew closer to my side before looking over her shoulder. "They're right over there, standing by the pool. I was talking to them earlier. Have you met Poppy before?" She rolled her eyes. "Hot mess. I can't tell what kind of drugs she's on, but they're doing a number on her."
I followed her gaze and sure enough, there they were. Griff looked handsome as ever in his tux, his dark blond curls longer than usual. He'd been working out, or else Poppy was so willowy that he only looked more muscular by comparison. She was nearly as tall as him, long-limbed and, well, just gorgeous. I glanced down at my own corseted figure. I doubted Poppy had to wear a corset.
"She looks hungry," Greta mused, never short on snark. "I went over to say hello just a few minutes ago and she was having trouble focusing. Her eyes were all over the place." She gave me a gentle elbow to my confined ribs. "You should go over and say hi. I swear, they'd probably have no idea who you were."
My palms were suddenly sweaty, my already short breaths coming in swift succession. Seeing them together — I had to stop to take inventory of my emotions. Was this rage? Jealousy? My fingernails were digging holes into the palms of my hands. Greta noticed and ran a hand up and down my arm. "Oh, honey. I'm sorry."
"What's the problem?"
Jax appeared to my left, his face darkened by shadow. He gave a nod to Greta. "Hello."
"Hey, Jax. Nice to see you."
I looked back and forth between them. "You two know each other?"
"We've been to a few of the same horrible cocktail parties," Greta explained.
"Hey." He leaned over to whisper in my ear. "I just spoke with Brennan. He practically offered me the role of Ben on the spot. Can you believe it?"
He paused, waiting for my response, but I was watching Griff and Poppy. They appeared to be engaged in an intense discussion. "Uh, Wren? You look like you're about to punch someone." He placed an arm around my waist. "Want to go for a walk?"
"No." I said. "I can barely walk in this dress as it is." People kept stepping on the train. It wasn't very practical.
He followed my gaze. "You knew they were going to be here," he said. "You don't have to talk to them."
I felt a well of emotion bubbling up, threatening to spill over. Maybe the disguise made me feel safe enough to address all of the ugly emotions I'd been trying to suppress for months. Humiliation. Sadness. Betrayal. I may have tried to take the high road, but suddenly I felt good and angry.
I looked over at him then, at the look of concern on his face. "I'm going over there."
Greta set a hand on my arm. "Honey —"
"No." I shook free of both of them. "I don't want to be calmed down."
I didn't know what I was going to do as I marched over in Griff and Poppy's direction. Maybe I'd stop short and take hold of my faculties, or maybe I'd keep going, plow them over with hostile words or my pinched-sausage body. I gripped the length of my gown in both fists. No one was going to stop me by stepping on that fabric. Griff and Poppy were owed a piece of my mind.
Then Poppy shoved Griff. She actually pushed him and he stumbled a few steps backward, knocking a tray of crystal flutes from a server's raised hand. I froze. The sound of the crystal shattering against the slate rippled through the party until it seemed that no one was
talking or moving. Except Griff and Poppy, of course.
"No, you don't get it!" Poppy was shouting. "You're the one who thought this was a good idea —"
"Pops, come on." Griff glanced around the patio. "Can we talk about this somewhere more private —"
"I'm done taking orders from you!" She thrust his outstretched hand out of the way. "If this isn't for real —"
"Of course it's for real, Pops! What are you — don't!"
I thought Griff's eyes were going to fall out of his head as she calmly removed a ring from her left hand and tossed it over the side of the balcony. "There. That's what I think of you, and of this charade. We're finished."
"Pops, please —"
She halted her movement, coming close to his face to sneer, "Don't you 'Pops' me, Griffin. We're done."
Then, as if the entire scene wasn't dramatic enough, she turned with a flare of her gown and stomped away. Unfortunately, her first step landed her right in the infinity pool.
A collective gasp waved through the guests, and we watched Poppy's brightly colored gown sink to the bottom of the pool. I glanced at Griff through my fingers, stunned by the events that had just transpired. His face was twisted in a rage I'd never seen before, his hands clenched at his side as he watched Poppy drift downward. His focus was intense.
Time passed, and Poppy didn't come up. She seemed to be settled on the bottom of the pool, her gown billowing around her, her hands floating above her head. My gut tightened. I'd been a lifeguard in the summer months during high school. I knew what drowning looked like. It looked like this.
A woman behind me whispered, "Is she okay?"
Someone had to go in.
I didn't bother to kick off my heels before taking a breath and diving in. My gown was heavy and made swimming difficult, and the heels didn't help, but I managed to reach her. Poppy didn't struggle with me as I wrapped my arms around her, and I was afraid she'd lost consciousness. When we broke through the surface of the water, I heard her gasp for air. Thank goodness. She might not have been my favorite person in the world, but I wouldn't have wished drowning on anyone.
The Coffee Girl Page 7
