Love Unrehearsed (48 page)

Ryan tilted his head, smirking. “It’s been a while since we did the bondage thing. I’m feeling inspired by all of this ass-kicking show of dominance.”

Mike leaned over the seat. “If you two are done, we’re up next to exit.”

Marie had her game face on, looking all serious and on edge when I climbed out of the car.

Ryan tugged me a few feet before he was pulled right in to give autographs and greet his fans. I stepped back out of the way, as I’d been instructed at all his other appearances. Marie was on my right side, keeping watch. Mike had her practice “shielding and removing” me from potential threats, and since she was right-handed, her left arm would be the one she used to grab me. Who knew there was a science to all of this? Mike knew the routine. He handled Ryan’s autographing and posing better than any publicist or manager could ever do, having been with Ryan at every public appearance he’d made in the last year.

“See how Mike keeps things away from Ryan’s face?” I said to her. Mike was holding a hand up, keeping all of the things fans were shoving at him to sign from getting too close.

“Holy shit, Taryn,” Marie muttered, taking in the hundreds of screaming fans lined up behind barricades, hungrily vying for a second of Ryan’s attention. “I thought the premiere was crazy; this is insane. They’re like rabid teenagers.”

“This is almost how it was in Paris.”

Her head snapped in my direction. “Like this?”

I nodded, keeping a handle on that memory. I was getting used to it, but this was only Marie’s second time experiencing the “fandemonium” that followed Ryan Christensen the movie star wherever he went, and I could see she was visibly shaken by it all. Ryan seemed so much more collected, cheerful even, giving his fans what they so desperately craved.

“Mike was on the phone with event security all morning coordinating this.”

I acknowledged her with a nod, and then glanced around. I noticed the extra security milling behind us. I knew both Ryan and Mike wouldn’t leave her to her own devices should anything go down.

“So is this basically what I do then? Just stand here with you?” Marie asked, glancing around, looking all official as she scanned for possible threats.

“What? Babysit me? Yep. You’re doing it.”

She twisted her lips at my poor attempt at humor.

I nudged my chin toward Ryan and Mike. “Those two chumps think we have no clue what’s going on.”

Marie nodded. “After the Kyle thing, it’s pretty obvious why Ryan would want you to have a female bodyguard. I gathered that a while ago when Mike first started talking to me about the wonders of being in personal security. He sort of slipped once when he told me that Ryan wanted a female to guard you.”

“Yeah, I’d say their little scheme is pretty transparent.”

“Do we let them know that we’re on to them?”

“And miss an opportunity to mess with them? Nah. This is all part of his master plan to ensure that I don’t get bored and into trouble while he’s busy being famous.”

Marie peered around me, keeping up with her vigil. “I sure as hell won’t be complaining. I get a gorgeous man who fucks like a machine and to travel the globe with my best friend. I have no problem babysitting you while we shop.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“I will start taking yoga classes if Mike gives me my own charge card—I’m telling you that now.”

“Just think of the trouble you could get into if you were a contortionist.”

She broke into a fit of giggles. “So does this job come with health insurance? I may need it.”

“Not sure, but I’ll let you stare at Ryan Christensen’s ass for an extra ten minutes a day.”

She looked aghast. “Only ten minutes? Hah! You know, if you would have told me a year ago I’d be part of Ryan Christensen’s entourage, I would have questioned your sanity. This is surreal. And no offense, but his ass is stellar.”

I watched all the faces of his fans light up the moment Ryan stopped in front of them, grinning, too. “What did my mom always say? Dreams come true when you point yourself in their direction.”

“Your mother was a brilliant woman,” Marie stated emphatically, both of us casting our gazes back to Ryan’s and Mike’s stellar asses.

I pulled a vision of my mom’s smiling face into my thoughts, hating that as the years passed since her death, I had to sometimes struggle to remember what she looked like.

Ryan smiled and waved a final goodbye to his screaming fans, then walked with purposeful strides to where I stood waiting. He took me by the hand, raised it to his mouth to softly kiss my fingers, twined his fingers around mine, and continued walking. His random public display of affection left me breathless. I don’t even think he knew how his unconscious actions made the entire outside world disappear around us or how he set my heart fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings from his natural chivalry. I knew we were going to pose for the press photo op next, but I would have stood in any firing line just to be next to him.

Now that I was paying more attention to all the behind-the-scenes details, I realized just how much Mike truly did for us. The rest of the award show went off without a hitch and Ryan received a large surfboard for winning Best Actor in a Romance. I loved watching him onstage, thanking his fans. His acceptance speech was short and sweet and hanging out with the old
Seaside
cast backstage was a blast.

When the award show was over, Mike and Marie were waiting to take us to our next destination—a late dinner with them and Cal and Kelly at the decadent restaurant Koi.

Thank God Marie was with us as we were bombarded by paparazzi when we came out of the restaurant. Mike had made sure our driver was waiting at the curb before allowing us to leave the safe confines of the building. Ryan had my hand, Marie was flanking me, repeating Mike’s orders for the throng of photographers to back up and let us through. After two and a half glasses of wine and being blinded in the dark by all of the camera flashes, I was glad I didn’t have to drive.

“No wonder celebs get into accidents,” Marie muttered. “I can’t see for shit. Look at them! Why the hell are they blocking the front of the car?”

The paparazzi were elbowing each other out of the way, trying to get more shots of us inside the vehicle. Ryan had his hand cupped over his eyes. I noticed Marie was doing the same thing. “You know, I always thought famous people did this because they were hiding from being photographed. Now I know it’s also to protect your damn eyes!”

Her voice flashed back through my mind as we endured the same gamut of photogs trying to catch our flight out of LAX. Fortunately, only a few passengers with cell phone cameras were on hand when we landed in Reno, Nevada.

I was nervous, excited, and petrified as we hurried out of the airport, climbing right into a waiting chauffeured SUV at the curb. I had always wondered how celebrities were able to get carted away so quickly; it was all a matter of precise coordination.

Mike held the door, guarding our entry. Even getting into cars was choreographed. I always got in first, followed by Ryan. Once the “principals” were stowed, Marie was in next. Mike always sat in the front passenger seat—always. He also handled receiving our luggage. Ryan Christensen didn’t wait at luggage carousels—ever.

I was beginning to think that Mike needed a big, fat raise. Giving him my best friend in the world with a big, red bow wrapped around her didn’t seem enough.

Ryan took my hand in his, giving me a reassuring squeeze and a smile. He didn’t need to ask me if I was nervous to meet my birth father; he knew. I’d barely slept a wink last night.

While we waited for our luggage to be loaded, Ryan toggled through his missed messages. “We’ve got a problem.”

My first thought was that the paparazzi had followed us, assuming we came to Reno to get married. Well, that’s what Trish’s first thought was when I mentioned our destination. I did not need any more problems and from his distinct tone I could tell it was personal.

He turned to meet my waiting stare. “Got an email from Trish. Apparently one of Tammy’s friends posted on Twitter that she’s going to get to meet me at their wedding in September.”

My nervous energy burst into a blur of outrageous fury. “You’re kidding?”

“I wish I was.” Ryan shoved his cell back into his pocket. “Well, there goes that. I told them to keep this to themselves. No one ever listens. Their wedding is going to be a media circus. Son of a . . .”

He glared over at me. “You know it’s going to be crazy now. I told Pete how this could turn out. News travels that I might be stepping into a church and you’ll have fucking helicopters flying overhead.”

Marie snorted from the backseat. “I wonder which idiot friend of hers did it.”

“Be nice,” I muttered, digging out my phone.

“Not likely,” she retorted with defiant sarcasm.

I rolled my eyes and started to call Tammy while the driver stowed our luggage in the back. “She’s not answering.”

“Of course she’s not answering. She knows I’m with you,” Marie added.

Ryan knew how much this dissension bothered me, having these moody, snippy attitudes floating around between what used to be the greatest of friends. I could only hope that it was the stress Tammy was going through making her crazy.

“I have to fix this,” I groaned.

“Why?” Marie snapped. “She wanted to have the bragging rights that Ryan was going to be in her wedding. This is her mess, not yours. She should have kept her damn mouth shut.”

“I agree,” Ryan muttered. “This isn’t your problem, Tar.”

I mostly agreed with them. Still . . . “When we get to the hotel, I’m going to try to call Pete. He has a right to know what’s going on, especially if there’s any chance his wedding might get ruined.”

The look in Ryan’s eyes said that it was already too late to prevent that.

The view coming up to the Ritz-Carlton hotel in Lake Tahoe was spectacular. The tall pines, majestic mountains, and impressive hotel complex beckoned us to come and enjoy luxury at its finest. Inside, a massive stacked-stone fireplace took central stage, towering from floor to “fifty-five feet tall,” as I had been informed by the concierge.

We were directed to a private floor, entering the most lavish suite I’d ever seen.

“Wow,” Marie breathed out. “I’m so glad you’re my friend,” she said to Ryan.

He smiled and took my bag off my shoulder.

Our suite had huge windows with gorgeous views of the mountains. Only one person we knew who would know how to find this sort of decadence. “Andrea?”

Ryan winked. “Yep.”

“That girl needs a huge raise.”

“Who’s Andrea?” Marie asked, wandering around in a tight circle so she wouldn’t miss anything.

“She’s the goddess of all travel agents,” Ryan answered. “There are supposed to be two master bedrooms. Pick one. Mike and I will be here drinking this complimentary bottle of cognac while you ladies decide.”

Marie and I wandered from room to room. “This place is bigger than the apartment,” she breathed.

I felt the elation hit my toes when I saw the extensive tiled shower stall. “I know.”

“I love having rich celebrities as friends,” she muttered, petting one of the white, fluffy towels folded on the counter as if it were alive.