Hurrying over to the grinning teenager, he’d put on his best gruff expression only to have his niece burst out laughing and tease him about his tux. He’d struggled to hide his grin as he’d admonished her, told her to stay put and then hurried back into the theater.
Ten minutes later, he’d emerged with the keys to the SUV. Bethany had informed him Chris was traveling to the post-screening party at Russell Crowe’s Sydney home with his fellow cast members, and she and Jeff were going for supper at a nearby restaurant.
“Go.” Bethany had shooed him away, the smile on her face understanding. “I think you need a break anyways. Jeff and I will grab a taxi back to the house when we’re done. Just be ready to collect Mr. Huntley from the party when I call you.”
“What about Chris Huntley? Is he as hot?”
Liev’s breath caught at Caitlin’s sudden question. He gripped the SUV’s steering wheel, his gut clenching.
“I meant to ask you this afternoon,” Caitlin went on, “but got sidetracked when you were showing me how to break into the house through the window.” She nudged his arm with her elbow. “Thanks for that, by the way. It’ll come in handy if I ever have to sneak into the house without Mum and Dad knowing.”
“Caitlin,” he growled.
She laughed. “Kidding. But seriously, is Chris Huntley hot in real life? I still can’t believe you get to touch him. I am so jealous.”
The answering laugh that fell from Liev’s lips was weak. From the corner of his eye, he saw Caitlin frown. “What’s up?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Grown-up things. Nothing you need to worry about.”
She burst out laughing. “Grown-up things? Seriously? Jesus, Uncle L, what the hell?”
He scowled, turning the car into a quiet street. “Okay, okay. Sorry. But it’s still nothing you need to worry about.”
He ground his teeth and glared at the road. He’d been doing so well until Caitlin had mentioned Chris’s name. He’d spent the movie running through every possible future scenario in his mind, and every one ended with the same result—Chris returning to America, Liev staying in Australia, never seeing each other again. The brief kiss he’d brushed over Chris’s lips on the stairs truly
was
the last. It was better for Chris. The tormented self-disgust Liev had heard in the actor’s voice when Chris accused Liev of calling him a pussy had ripped at Liev’s heart. He didn’t want to cause Chris any more pain or grief or anger, and the only way not to was to remove the confusion.
No matter how much he wanted to explore the haunted desire he saw in Chris’s mesmerizing blue eyes, he wouldn’t.
As it was, he’d had a bloody hard time keeping his cool when Chris had grabbed his hand on the red carpet and waved it around for the crowd. All he’d wanted to do was haul the man against his chest and kiss him, right there in front of all the screaming fans. Claim Chris’s mouth with his own for the world to see.
The moment he’d decided the fantasy had to end—somewhere around the halfway point of the film, as Chris’s rogue hero made love to his leading lady’s CIA agent in a grimy, dimly-lit hotel room—he’d banished thoughts of Chris from his mind.
And then his niece had gone and asked him if the man was hot.
Was he hot? Fuck, Liev knew he’d never meet hotter again.
“Uncle L?” Caitlin’s soft voice scraped at his nerves. “Do you
like
Chris Huntley? Like,
like
like?”
Liev bit back a breath. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, negotiating a hard left before turning right straight away into his brother’s street. “He’s my boss, Caitlin,” he said, trying like hell to keep his voice calm. “That’s it. He’s an American actor I’m protecting while he’s in Australia. He’s going back to the States the day after tomorrow. And besides, he’s never dated anyone but women. You know that. You told me who they all were when I first told you I was guarding him.”
The prickling weight on the side of his face told him Caitlin was staring at him. He suppressed another frustrated sigh. He’d always been proud of the fact his niece was smart and astute for her age, willing to judge the world without prejudice. Right now, however, he wished she wasn’t so perceptive. The last thing he wanted was Caitlin figuring out he was falling in love with Chris Huntley.
His throat squeezed shut, the truth of the situation hitting him hard.
Falling
in love
, damn it. How the hell did he let this happen? He didn’t fall in love. He didn’t do relationships. He didn’t do commitment. He lived for each day. He didn’t mess with the status quo
.
He enjoyed what life had to offer and that was it.
Falling in love with an American movie star who didn’t
want
to be sexually attracted to him was dumb.
Dumb, dumb, dumb.
“We’re here,” he grumbled, pulling the Audi to a halt in front of a large single-story house surrounded by lush gardens. The windows of his brother’s house were dark, not a sign evident that Ian and his wife knew their teenage daughter was currently AWOL. Turning to Caitlin, he pointed a finger at her. “In the morning you need to tell them where you were.”
She nodded, her expression pensive, but she didn’t move.
He raised his eyebrows at her. “What?”
A frown furrowed her young forehead. “Do you remember when I told you the hottest guy at school kept asking me out? Two years ago, when I was only in year ten and he was a senior? And all my friends kept telling me to do it, to go out with him? Do you remember that?”
Liev’s pulse thumped hard in his temple. He nodded. “I do.”
“Do you remember what you said to me? When I told you I didn’t know if I wanted to say yes or not? That I thought he was too hot for me and that I’d only end up getting hurt?”
The grunt that left Liev was choked. “I told you if
any
boy hurt you I’d break them in two.”
Caitlin laughed. “You did. You also told me it was impossible for anyone to be too good for me. But more importantly, you told me the worst thing a person could do is reject themselves in fear that someone else will.” She frowned. “You told me to think with my mind, to listen to my heart and to be true to myself. I’ve followed that piece of advice to the letter ever since, and I’ve never regretted it.” She leant forward, as if bestowing a secret on a small child. “Maybe it’s time you took your own advice, Uncle L.”
Liev couldn’t stop his wry chuckle. “Sweetheart, I really wish I could.”
She grinned. “So do it. What’s the worst that could happen? He could say no?” And before he could argue, she dropped a kiss on his cheek and scrambled out of the car just as the verandah light came to life.
Liev sat behind the wheel, his heart beat fast, his gut knotted. He watched his niece hurry down the footpath leading to the verandah steps, her words—
his
words—replaying in his mind.
Don’t reject yourself in fear of someone else doing it.
Was that what he was doing? Was he withdrawing from Chris because he was scared? He knew what scared felt like. Scared was being told when you were only seventeen your parents had died in a car accident. Scared was staring into a burning building and knowing if you didn’t run into it, the people inside would die.
Scared wasn’t a reaction to a decision. It was a reaction to an event beyond your control, and the only way to deal with that event was to stare it down and refuse to let it beat you.
Surely distancing himself from the American actor was the act of rational thought, not fear. Right?
The front door of his brother’s home opened, tearing Liev’s thoughts from Chris Huntley.
Ian’s tall, lean frame immediately filled the space, and even from this distance Liev could see worry fighting with anger on his face. For a moment, Liev was almost overcome with the urge to lower the driver’s side window—dark with privacy tint—to let his brother know it was just him in the car, that Caitlin was fine, safe and not out gallivanting around with someone she shouldn’t. Then the harsh fact that, in Ian’s opinion, Liev
was
someone Caitlin shouldn’t be associating with sank into Liev’s gut, and he returned his hand to the wheel.
He watched Caitlin walk up to her father, watched them speak to each other, watched Ian shake his head, his finger, a frown on his face. His shoulders stiffened and then he shook his head again and folded his arms around his daughter, holding her close.
A lump filled Liev’s throat and, unable to watch the brother he loved who wanted nothing at all to do with him any longer, he pressed his foot to the accelerator and drove away from the only family he had.
He knew his place in the world, and it wasn’t with his brother. And no matter how much he wished otherwise, no matter how sage and profound his niece’s teenage advice, his place wasn’t with Chris Huntley either.
It seemed he’d lied to his niece all those years ago. Better to reject oneself than to let someone else do it.
It was safer that way.
Three hours into the party, Chris realized he’d had enough. No matter how many times he thought he’d drained his scotch, it was always full when he looked at it. No matter how many times he said no, the little starlet with the silicon boobs, bad weave and broad Australian accent kept trying to put her hand down his pants. No matter how many times he turned around to share something with Liev, the man wasn’t there.
He said his farewells to the host, waved off the offer of a driver and, seeing a taxi dropping off new guests through the open front doors, hurried out to it before the starlet could squirm her way through the crowd and try to feel him up again. It seemed like fate was lending him a hand.
The trouble was, now he was
in
the taxi heading away from Russell Crowe’s house, he realized he didn’t actually know the address of his residence while in Australia.
Added to that, he didn’t have a key to get in, nor a way of paying for the taxi even if he did know his destination.
If he hadn’t had so many scotches, he’d be feeling goddamn stupid right about now.
Squirming on the seat, he dug his cell from his pocket and dialed Bethany’s number.
“Mr. Huntley,” she answered on the second ring, voice as poised and efficient as ever. “Shall I send Liev for you now?”
Chris’s gut clenched at Liev’s name. He slumped on the seat, staring out the window. “I’m in a cab, Bethany,” he said. Damn, his head swam. “Heading home.”
“Home?” The word was sharp. “To Beverly Hills?”
He laughed, a snorting sound at the back of his throat. “No, the place we’re staying in on the water. I know the suburb, Point Piper, but I don’t know the—”
The ragged breath coming through the reception was unlike any he’d heard his personal assistant take. “Oh God, you scared me, Mr. Huntley. Please don’t do that again.”
He chuckled, closing his eyes on his blurring vision. “Sorry.” Just how many damn drinks
had
he consumed? Not enough to stop him thinking about Liev, that was for damn sure. Every time he’d heard a deep male voice speaking in an Australian accent his heart had jumped into his throat, his balls had risen up and his pulse had quickened. “I won’t do it again.”
With a
tsk
, Bethany supplied the address and then waited for him to give it to the cab driver.
“Now,” she continued when he’d returned the phone to his ear, “How inebriated are you?”
“I’ve had a few, but I’m in control of my faculties, if that’s what you mean. I don’t do fall-down drunk anymore. Rowie would kill me.”
She gave a
hmm
. “Do you know how far away you are?”
“No clue.”
“Ask, please?”
Chris looked at the driver. “How long until we get there?”
“’Bout fifteen minutes.”
“He says—”
“I heard, thank you, Mr. Huntley,” Bethany interrupted. “I shall be waiting out the front of the house.”
She disconnected. Chris frowned at the phone. For a personal assistant, she really was a bossy little thing. Most actors’ P.A.s spent their time sucking up to their bosses. The thing was, Chris realized he didn’t mind it. Not at all. It was kind of like having his sister with him even when she wasn’t.
Slumping farther down in the seat, he shoved his phone back into his jacket’s inside pocket and stared out the window. His thoughts turned to Liev and, too exhausted—or drunk, he wasn’t quite sure which—to fight any longer he let them.
He still didn’t know what to do about his reaction to the man. If he only got horny looking at the guy, if he only thought of sex—albeit the kind of sex Chris had never had before—it would be easy to believe the whole surreal situation was just a purely physical…thing. The kind of
thing
he could put behind him when he returned to L.A. He could tuck the mind-blowing, explosive passion of the amazing kiss in the restaurant’s office into his memory bank and draw on it whenever he needed to emote bone-deep, raw emotion on screen. The trouble was it
wasn’t
only a purely physical thing. Tonight on the red carpet proved that. The party he’d just left proved that. The whole time he’d been there, surrounded by fellow performers, entertainers and celebrities, he’d wanted Liev to be there with him. Talking to him, laughing at his jokes, smiling at him, sharing the moment with him. He’d wanted to hear what the Australian thought of the film. He wanted to involve him in conversations, hear what he had to say about things discussed, and it had nothing to do with Liev’s accent and everything to do with his dry wit and intelligence.