Hollywood Ever After (12 page)

Something about the tone of his voice, the look on his face, made me come alive instantly. The desire filled me again, and I was acutely aware of how alone we were. It was quiet in the car after the club and the press. An explosive silence filled the space. I could hear him breathing, unsteadily.

The car’s air conditioner blew through the silk of my dress. The air was cold, a contrast to his hot hand resting on my thigh. I’m not sure if it was the alcohol, the compulsion to break all of the rules, or the need to let my basic instincts take control, but I was most definitely on fire. I sat up and moved next to him, delighted that this car had a bench seat.

I bit his ear, nipping at the earlobe and tracing it with my tongue. His smell filled my nose, fanning my enthusiasm, as I trailed my lips down his throat.

Josh shivered, his breathing picking up.

I was vaguely aware that we were sitting in the driveway of Shannon’s house as my hand crept under his shirt and my fingers traveled across the hard plane of his chest. I didn’t hesitate, but grasped the waist of his pants, unbuttoning them quickly. My mouth continued to bite and kiss his ear, moving down his neck. I smiled when his hand caught my hair wildly, trying to turn my face so he could kiss me.

I twisted away from his kiss, nuzzling his neck with my nose as I pulled him from his pants. He was hot, erect, and ready in my grasp. The slick silk of my dress helped me slide so that my head rested in his lap. My mouth closed over the tip of him.

“
Claire
…” he ground out between tight lips.

I took one of his hands in mine, wrapping it in my hair for him, then slid him into my mouth. I closed one hand around him, holding him, as my tongue explored him. My mouth slid up, almost to the tip, then back down, while my hand tightened firmly around him.

The hand in my hair shook, then grabbed more. His body was shaking, his breath ragged.

I let my lips and tongue explore him, savoring his shivers and groans.

It took him only a few minutes. Then he was groaning fiercely, his body tightening and pulsing with his release.

He pulled me to him, almost into his lap. His breath was ragged against my face as he kissed me. His heart was thundering under my hand on his chest. His hands slid around me. They opened against my back before they fisted, clutching my dress and holding me close to him.

I took his face between my hands and kissed him back, long and leisurely. It was empowering, and satisfying, that I could affect him so strongly. I smiled against his mouth as his breath continued to escape him in short, ragged gasps.

I stroked my hand across his face, my forehead resting against his.

Our eyes locked.

My heart stopped.

His face was flushed, his eyes wide and…expectant.

Panic hit me in the stomach and I pulled away from him to give us both some space. “Thanks for bringing me home.” My voice was unsteady.

I let myself out of the car and closed the door quickly behind me, making my way to the house as steadily as I could. I didn’t turn around as I let myself in the house. I pushed the door closed and leaned against it, the whir in my head overwhelming me.

I took a deep breath and tried to clear my head.

His face–the way he was looking at me.

I swallowed.
Get a grip, Claire.

I was overreacting. He’d just had an intense sexual experience. That was all. The look on his face was satisfaction, nothing more. If he felt anything for me, he’d get over it. Not that his feeling something would be bad.

It would be wonderful.

I shook my head, trying to find reason.

Just because I was inexperienced and overly romantic didn’t mean he was. Just because I let myself think about him too many minutes over the course of the day didn’t mean he thought about me. Because his face, his presence, did more than stir my desire didn’t mean I did the same for him. But the look on his face made me hope.

You’re pathetic
, I scolded myself.
Be realistic.

Nothing about us made any sense. But my heart didn’t seem to care. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. I shivered, shaking my head. I was terrified. The truth was
I
wanted more.

I’m very drunk, that’s all.

I stepped out of my shoes and walked quickly into the kitchen, my head spinning. After gulping down a tall glass of water, I wiped my face with a cool cloth. My hands were still shaking, frustrating me even more. I tossed the towel onto the counter and headed to my room. Once there, I pulled off my dress and clicked on the computer.

With music bouncing off the walls, I checked my email. There was an e-card from Daniel for my birthday, which I deleted without opening. Nothing from Mom yet.

Still rattled, I threw clothes around the room as I hunted for my robe, growing increasingly agitated when I couldn’t find it. I tried to slam the door but the pile of clothes stopped it before it could. That’s when I found it, my black kimono, hanging conveniently on the hook on the back of the bedroom door. I glared at it before I tugged it on and tied it tightly in place.

It was hot. I was hot. I opened the glass doors onto the balcony, staring down at the white beach below.

I closed my eyes, trying to tune everything out. In my mind, I could still see him… My heart ached. Why had I run out? Why was I freaking out?

Because I don’t want to be vulnerable ever again. I don’t want to hurt anymore.

My reasoning seemed flawed. I was already hurting…a little. But it was because I was running away.

“Claire?” I jumped a little, turning to him.

Josh stood straight, a wary look on his face.

“You scared me.”

“Just now? Or in the car?” His voice was soft, but there was an edge to it.

I pulled my gaze from his.

He took a deep breath, considering his words before he spoke. “Claire, I don’t know what you want. You might not know what you want.” He took slow steps toward me.

I kept my eyes averted and my emotions hidden.

His hand caught my cheek, capturing my eyes with his. “But I know what I want.”

I looked at him, knowing my confusion was clearly written across my face.

His face looked apprehensive, his voice wavering. “I…I care about you, Claire.” He took a breath. “I’d like to spend more time with you.”

“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.” I sounded as shocked as I felt.

His eyes held mine captive. “You can come to London. The movie’s opening there. Bring your children for spring holiday. Make it a proper vacation.”

I stared at him, completely at a loss.

He was watching me carefully. “We can figure this out as we go. Together.”

I shook my head. His words were tempting—and completely unsettling.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me, of us. You have every reason not to trust a man ever again, but I’m hoping this—” His hand caught mine in his and placed it over his heart to emphasize his words. “—will help you want to try.” His heart beat wildly under my palm.

His words hung in the air. I heard the sincerity in his tone and stared at our hands. “Josh, we live in different worlds. We…we’re in very different places in our lives.” I stepped away from him.

“Not really. We’re both at a beginning.” He moved closer, the space between us disappearing.

My chest tightened. He’d just given me what I wanted and more. “I don’t think I can.”

“Why?” His brow furrowed and he took a deep breath. “The past has no impact on what happens now.”

Why indeed?
I shook my head, unable to find words that could adequately explain the mix of emotions I was experiencing.

“There’s nothing to prevent you from having more.” His face was torn, then he took a steadying breath.

I wasn’t thinking clearly. “I can’t.”

I heard the hesitancy in his voice. “I’ll understand if you don’t want
this
.”

“That’s not it…” I mumbled.

“I would understand…because I read your book, Claire. I know what you’ve been through—as much as anyone can. It was before I met you, before I knew it was
your
story.”

“What?” I heard the renewed shock in my whispered question.

“Last fall, I was collecting scripts from Shannon’s office when we were finishing up
Stellar Siege
. It was an accident. The scripts were stacked on her desk, and I grabbed your manuscript with them. Honestly, I couldn’t put it down. I asked Meg when the screenplay was going to be ready. She didn’t know what I was talking about. And when I gave it back to Shannon, she was livid. She told me to forget I’d read it. It was her secret project.”

I stared at him.

“I didn’t realize it was your story until last night. I suppose I should have, but it never occurred to me. And when it did, I didn’t know what to say. All of my bloody questions, my glib responses— I was a shit. I wouldn’t ask you to relive things that you should never…
never—”
His hand tightened about mine as he spoke fiercely. “—have had to go through. It’s wrong, what happened to you. And I’m sorry for reading your story without your permission.” His voice was full of regret.

I was sad, but not angry.

“Can you forgive me?”

I looked up at him, my heart in my throat. I knew I wouldn’t be able to say anything, so I nodded.

His arms wrapped around me, gently pulling me against him. My heart pounded as his head bent to mine, pressing a kiss on my forehead. It felt very right, being held in his arms.

Oh God
. My heart betrayed me. I turned my head, burying my face against his shoulder.
I’m falling in love with you
. It was completely ridiculous, but true.

I was afraid, very afraid. Instead of thinking or talking, I tilted my head back, pressing my lips to his. He returned the kiss, his mouth a brief caress. Then he held me close, tucking my head under his chin in a comfortable embrace. I closed my eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

We stood, wrapped around one another. Unexpected happiness pumped through me, turning me soft and pliable in his embrace.

“You didn’t answer the first question,” he said softly into my hair.

“Oh?” I stiffened a bit in his arms.

“What did I do that scared you?”

He was being so open with me. I had to try. I looked up at him as I said, “You didn’t
do
anything. It was the way you looked at me. The way you look at me.” I swallowed before I explained. “I’m scared I’ll do something to make that look go away. And something else will take its place: pain, regret, resentment, distrust, anger.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Claire. Ever. None of those emotions exist here for us,” he reassured me, his voice firm. His eyes were molten, full of warmth. He
was
warm, and gentle.

My hand pushed his hair from his forehead, then came to rest on his cheek.

“You know why I look at you the way I do?” His voice was hesitant and I swallowed, my heart pounding fiercely.

Suddenly Shannon’s answering machine was talking. My mother’s voice spilled into the room. “I didn’t get you on your cell, so I thought I’d try the house number.”

Josh’s hold loosened. I had no idea where the phone was, as usual.

She continued. “I love you, Claire, so very much. My literary side is truly impressed. You are a gifted writer. Shannon is right about the book. It could be a fantastic liberator for many battered women. However, I’m still pissed at the way she handled this.”

Josh nodded, his jaw locked.

She sighed then continued. “As a mother, I just want to make it all better. If you want to do this, do it. Publish it. Together we can deal with whatever backlash might follow. You’re not alone, remember that, okay? I’ll support whatever choice you make. Call me tomorrow. Love you, sweetie. Bye.”

Josh looked at me with a smile on his face then disappeared into the kitchen. He returned with a glass of water and some pain reliever.

“Can’t I just drink some more? We could dance?” I took the pills and a long drink of water.

“We can dance.” He reached over and clicked the computer a few times. The soothing voice of Nora Jones’ “Come Away with Me” filled the room and he pulled me into his arms.

***

I opened my eyes cautiously. The brilliant California sunshine was spilling into my room. There was a high probability that my head might protest. My hand came to rest on my forehead. It wasn’t painful, but I felt heavy all over. I heard a soft snore and turned. Josh was sound asleep beside me on the bed.

I smiled happily. The previous evening slowly returned to me, providing vague recollections of dinner, clubbing with Shannon, and meeting Arthur. Sweet, sweet Arthur. He was a keeper.

Things got a little sketchy then. I pieced bits of coherent memories together. There was drinking, lots of drinking. Lots and lots of drinking.

I’d danced wildly at a club. Josh had appeared. He’d driven me home. I felt my cheeks grow hot as I realized what an active car trip it had been. Well, maybe I’d given him some exceedingly good memories in his front seat. My smile grew. I loved the way he’d trembled from my touch.

He’d stayed, to take care of me. I remembered that…and our conversation.

When the song had ended, he’d spoken softly. “We need to get you to bed if you’re going to be up before noon.”

I had nodded drowsily against his chest. “Staying?”

“I’ll take that as an invitation.” He’d taken my hand, clicked off the light and the computer, and led me to the bed. He’d pulled the blankets back and patted the bed for me to sit.

I’d smiled, cocking an inviting eyebrow at him, and began to untie the sash of my robe. He grabbed my hands and kissed me gently.

“Sleep. We’re going to sleep.” He shook his head. “Don’t tempt me.”

I slipped between the sheets, watching as he stripped down to his black boxer briefs and climbed into bed.

“Do you wear pajamas? Normally, I mean?”

He lay on his side, facing me. “If I’m at my dad’s or my sisters’.”

“If not?”

“I just fall asleep in whatever I’m wearing.” His eyes traveled over my face. “And you?”