The couch was so comfy you could take up residence on it. The lush carpet meant you didn’t need to wear socks even in the coldest temperatures. The plasma screen was mammoth and the walls were covered in his favorite shots.
He led Holly to the couch and gently sat her down. Although the wig was gone, her hair had formed some kind of bird’s nest under it and the nest had kept its shape. Her face was streaked with red splotches, despite her effort not to cry. Leaning back into the seat, she wrapped her arms back around her knees and hugged tight. She appeared to be in a kind of trance. He glanced toward the bar and, for the first time ever, cursed his decision not to stock it with alcohol. She could do with a brandy.
Instead, he found a throw given to him by one of his sisters many Christmases ago and took it to Holly, tucking it around her like a shield. “I’ll be right back.”
She didn’t register his words, making him wonder if she was in some kind of medical shock. He’d only ever studied the most basic of First Aid and that was years ago. His memory was rusty. For some reason, the only image that came to mind was hot chocolate. Luckily that was one drink he was King-pin at making. He’d made a million for Lissa and Bec during the years he’d been looking after them because his dad was drunk and his Mum too smashed up. He returned to the living room with two steaming mugs and marshmallows on the side, to find Holly still sitting like a statue. He set his mug down on the coffee table and held the other one out to her. “Take it.”
Slowly, her hands crept out from under the blanket and when her fingers closed around the warm mug, he let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He sat down beside her and started to drink. He’d almost finished his hot chocolate, when a tiny voice said, “Thanks. I don’t know what came over me.”
He set his mug back on the coffee table and turned to face her. “Did you really only come here for your parents?”
She pressed her lips together tightly and shrugged one shoulder.
“What was your relationship like with Daisy before the Ian episode?”
She took a sip of her drink but maintained eye contact with him. Her grip looked so tight he didn’t think he’d be able to pry her fingers off the mug if he wanted to.
Finally, she spoke. “I idolized her. When we were little that is. She was five years older but she was always so fun and she humored my whims. I’d write plays and then we acted them—the kitchen table was our stage. She was always the star, of course.”
“Of course.” He laughed, his own memories of Daisy also strangely similar, not that they acted out any plays on the kitchen table. But Daisy had had the kind of personality that demanded attention. When she entered a room, she lit it up, leaving little room for anyone else. Holly was the same, but in a far more subtle way.
“She never spoke nastily to me or made me feel too young for what she was doing,” Holly continued. “Our parents were always fussing over her but she remained down to earth despite all the fame.”
She took a breath and another sip of hot chocolate.
“We were homeschooled because no normal school would work around Daisy’s schedule and I had to follow wherever she went, so I couldn’t attend a regular school either. She used to help me with my work and read me stories about fairies when she was supposed to be doing hers.
“But when I reached high school, I was sent to boarding school and Daisy got her first movie roll overseas.”
“
Everybody Wants Me
?” He recalled the box office hit that shot Daisy to international stardom.
Holly rolled her eyes. “Yep, that’s the one. Aptly named and the first of many. We grew distant after that. We still emailed occasionally and I was always going to visit her one day but our worlds were so different. We didn’t have much in common. Then I got together with Ian—his parents were friends of the family and we’d known each other forever. I got caught up in my Ph.D, in wedding preparations and we talked even less. Daisy came home about twice a year and stayed with my parents. Which they loved.”
Nate detected bitterness in her last sentence but didn’t acknowledge it.
“But we were never close again in the way we were when we were young. And when I found her with Ian, any relationship I had with my sister ended. Oh God.” She stopped and put one hand over her mouth as if blocking emotion.
Instinctively, he took the mug from her, placed it on the coffee table and then took hold of her free hand. He squeezed it and looked into her eyes, willing her to continue, to get it all out.
“If only she didn’t have to sleep with him.” Holly sniffed and a lone tear trickled down her cheek. She swiped it away angrily. “Anyone else! She had all the men in the world wanting to be with her. She had you.” She threw the words at him like an accusation.
“But what if she loved him?”
Holly scoffed. “Love? We may have been family friends from way back but she barely knew him. They had nothing in common.”
“I don’t know anything about love or whether you need to have things in common. All I know is that Daisy thought she loved Ian.”
“What?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “How do you know that?”
“She told me. She said she’d had a thing for him since they were children and that he was the reason she never had a serious relationship with anyone else. She never told me what she’d done or that he was your husband but she told me she couldn’t be with the love of her life and that it broke her heart every day. Her words, not mine,” he added quickly.
She rolled her eyes again and tucked her hair behind her ears. “She was always dramatic.”
But something had changed in her eyes. Her anger had softened and she looked as if she were pondering astrophysics or something equally impossible. Silence reigned for a few moments. He could practically see the cogs churning in her mind. Then, “Do you really believe she loved him?”
He nodded. “She was a good actor but she wasn’t lying about Ian.”
“It doesn’t make sense. If she loved him, why didn’t they get together after it all came out? No one in our family was talking to her, so she didn’t have anything to lose.”
“I only know what she told me, but apparently Ian didn’t feel the same way about her. He told her she was a mistake. That it was you he wanted.”
Her expression told him this knowledge shocked her.
“Oh God.” She shook her head and sniffed again, pressed her hand against her stomach as if trying to stop herself being sick. “I don’t think he knew what love was and I let him ruin everything.”
The tears he could see she’d been fighting to restrain tumbled down Holly’s cheeks like an avalanche of grief. And guilt. Emotions he was all too familiar with. “I still loved her deep down. She made one mistake and I pushed her away.” Her chest rose and fell in a heavy breath. “And I’ll never get to tell her.”
Her long, thick, black lashes were quickly drenched. The eyes that had earlier sparked with feistiness were overwhelmed with sadness and regret, yet she still looked more beautiful than anyone else he could recall.
The most natural thing in the world was to wrap his arms around her heaving body and hold her close. To let her lean her soggy cheek against his overwrought shoulder and try and bear the brunt of some of her pain.
Chapter Nine
Holly woke with a hangover, only she hadn’t drunk a drop of alcohol the previous night. Her first thoughts were for pain killers and her second were of Nate. Nate, who she’d spilled all her troubles to and cried like a baby onto his broad, strong shoulders. Nate who had kissed her like no man had ever kissed her before, making her feel like a whole new person.
Her head throbbed even harder at the thought and her cheeks heated at the recollection. She couldn’t help but smile as she forced herself to climb out of bed and start the day.
First up her interview with a lead Hollywood Breakfast show. Daisy’s PR company was sending a car and Nate planned to pick her up from the studio and take her for her fitting at Bec’s place. Talk about a day completely removed from her comfort zone.
Under normal circumstances, the publicity would be taking up prime stressing-space in her mind, the dress fitting coming a close second. Today, her brain had little room for any thoughts that didn’t center on Nate. Even her confusion over her feelings for Daisy didn’t seem quite as massive when compared to the dilemma of how she’d walk out of this room and face him.
In the shower, she played a heavy game of Twenty Questions with herself. Did he want to kiss her again? Was she some kind of perverse Daisy substitute? Did he want to take things even further? Did
she
want to kiss
him
again?
Who was she kidding? Dumb question.
Yesterday had been magic, like some kind of dream even. After Nate had kissed her, her imagination had been ripe with delicious fantasies. Yet, anticipating the evening ahead, she’d never imagined falling apart with grief for Daisy. Part of her wanted to be furious at Nate for forcing her to face feelings she’d been quite happy ignoring, but part of her wanted to thank him. Memories she’d pushed aside the last few years had come hurling back last night. Good memories. Memories of the older sister who’d gently brushed knots out of her hair as a child, who’d snuggled up in bed with her in hotel rooms when they were on the road. She missed that Daisy.
Nate had been one surprise after another since she arrived. He’d gone from being cold and distant to almost friendly. Although by no means an expert at reading men, she’d sworn he’d been flirting with her as they’d toured the sights. Her thoughts had been confirmed when he’d leaned toward her and claimed her lips in a kiss that made every other kiss she’d ever experienced look and feel like a peck on the cheek from Grandpa. A kiss that’d she’d felt from the tip of her tongue right down to the nails of her toes! Amazing. What she couldn’t work out was whether it was because he missed Daisy or because he truly liked her. And she couldn’t work out whether she should be singing hallelujahs or running for the mountains.
Probably a moot point because either way, she’d doused any chance of flames with all her crying.
Yet his reaction to her near hysteria had also been surprising. Where most men would run a mile at the first sign of female tears (especially those of a near strangers), he’d taken control and whisked her home to a safe place where he’d listened and looked after her. He hadn’t once made her feel stupid or childish but he’d made her think.
He’d made her look at her problems with Daisy without black-and-white glasses. She’d never have thought it would be someone like Nate who’d force her to face her issues.
“I owe him big time,” she told her reflection as she undressed in the bathroom ready for a shower. It’d have to be a quick one because she wanted to show her appreciation by cooking Nate breakfast before she had to leave for her interview. It was still early, so she’d get in before Ruby arrived and beat her to the kitchen.
She washed her hair and tried to push aside the thoughts of Daisy that had kept her awake long into the night.
Anger had been an easy emotion to deal with compared to the sadness that had overcome her last night. She’d never thought she’d be able to forgive Daisy for betraying her but something in her had snapped when she’d seen her star on the sidewalk. And then finding out Daisy had looked upon Ian as the love of her life as well somehow made her actions easier to tolerate. She still didn’t condone anyone sleeping with anyone else’s husband but she’d been so sure Daisy doing so had been to get at her, and Nate’s revelation had put doubts in her mind.
Now she didn’t know what to think and whether she could trust her own judgment or emotions. Her track record was hardly reliable—she’d been living with Ian for three years before they got married and look what had happened. Granted, they hadn’t had the most passionate of relationships—theirs had been more a meeting of like minds—but she’d trusted him, had never imagined he might betray her.
But she did know two things—she was glad she’d come, and she was very glad that Nate finally knew the truth.
Once out the shower, she dried her hair and dressed quickly. The PR rep had informed her that someone would do her hair and make-up for the interviews so she didn’t spend too long fussing over either. Only long enough to make sure she looked respectable in front of Nate, which included dabbing powder under her eyes to try and eliminate the bags.
Grabbing her handbag, she trekked down the stairs, going quietly past Nate’s floor, not wanting to wake him until she’d laid a hot breakfast on a tray. But she needn’t have worried, he was already up and making waffles. The smell of cooking batter wafted toward her.
“Oh, hi,” she said, coming to an abrupt stop as she entered the kitchen.
“Morning.” He nodded toward a fresh glass of orange juice. “Help yourself.”
“I was going to make you breakfast,” she said, but she took a sip of OJ anyway, trying to work out if he was acting awkward. Maybe he kissed people all the time and didn’t think anything of it.
“Really? Why?”
“For last night.” She plonked herself down on a stool. “I’m sorry I burdened you with all my woe.”
He shook his head and checked the waffles. “Don’t be ridiculous. Daisy was my friend and I was the one who took you there.”
She tried not to stare or be distracted by the sight of him cooking. He wore a tight white tee that accentuated every flexed muscle whenever he lifted the lid of the waffle maker.
Perhaps she
was
flipping out.
“And I’m glad you did,” she said, pulling her thoughts back to sensible. Worrying about whether or not a gorgeous guy wanted to kiss her or not was never supposed to be on her Hollywood agenda. She sighed. “I’ve finally realized I have a lot more than anger to work through in terms of my feelings about Daisy. I guess acknowledgement is the first step.”
Nate walked away from the frying pan toward a pile of books on the countertop. “I’m glad you feel that way.” He tapped the top book. “This is her diary. It was in my car when she died. I think she’d want your family to have it. I haven’t read it but she told me about some of the stuff she wrote in there and I think it’d do you good to read it.”
Holly stared at the frivolous, fancy book. She’d always kept a journal herself—in sensible brown covered notepads—but she’d never seen Daisy doing anything of the sort. Part of her wanted to reach out and devour this diary like a juicy novel but another part of her hung back, almost scared to even touch it. What secrets would lie between the pages? Did she really want to know them? It was too late to change the past.
“You don’t have to keep it, but maybe your parents would like it.” Nate put a stack of waffles on a plate in front of her. Her nose automatically sucked up the delicious aroma, but she wasn’t sure she could eat a bite.
Finally, she picked up the bottle of maple syrup and poured it liberally over her breakfast. Then, she picked up a knife and fork.
“Thanks,” she said to Nate, not really making it clear what she was thanking him for—breakfast or the diary or for kissing her into oblivion the day before. Not really sure herself.
“You’re welcome.” He sat down at the breakfast bar opposite her and reached across for the syrup. “Are you nervous yet?”
Her stomach butterflied at his words. “I’m trying not to think about it.”
“Ever done interviews in the past?”
She finished one divine mouthful. “I did a couple, years ago before Daisy and I…before we stopped talking. Mostly women’s mag stuff. They always asked silly questions, like what Daisy ate for breakfast and what she’d wanted to be growing up. I’m guessing the interview today won’t be so light and fluffy.”
She’d agreed to exclusively sell her story to Los Angeles’s most popular morning television talk show and she didn’t think she’d be getting off lightly. It’s not that she wanted the money promised for her exclusive interview, more that she couldn’t bear to go over the Daisy territory with more than one journalist. This was going to be painful and awful enough.
“I think you’re right.” He looked seriously at her. “Hollywood loved Daisy.”
“I know. I’ll tread carefully.” She went for confidence but inside her heart was tripping. Wanting to forget the woes ahead for a moment, she changed the subject. “So what are you going to do this morning?”
“I’ve got some paperwork to get done at home.”
“I thought you were taking the week off?”
“Yes, but I have a client tomorrow morning I don’t want to reschedule. It won’t take long and I might pop into the shelter later.”
Shelter
? She stopped chewing midmouthful. Despite how he’d taken her under his divine wing, she hadn’t taken him for the charity type of guy. Realizing she was staring freakishly, she swallowed and then asked, “What kind of shelter?” She couldn’t exactly imagine him in a soup kitchen or somewhere warm and fuzzy like an animal refuge.
Finishing his last mouthful, he picked up his plate and headed to the dishwasher. Almost as a throwaway comment over his shoulder, he said, “A place for homeless kids or kids who are better off away from their folks.”
“Wow. Sounds awesome.”
He began to clear way. “I hope it’s doing its job. As well as offering food and a roof, we try and encourage the kids to get an education and raise funds for them to explore other things they’re passionate about such as music, sports and art.”
Her heart glowed at the passion in his voice. It matched the spark he had whenever he spoke about his hobby photography. When he spoke about these things, she wished he’d wax lyrical all day. But he was a man of few words. Prodding, she said, “I’d like to see it.”
“Really?” He looked at her as if she’d put the waffles on her head for a hat.
She nodded. “Really.” She bit her tongue to stop herself asking why he’d put his heart and soul into such a place. She had her suspicions but thought if she pushed too hard he’d likely not agree to take her. And suddenly she wanted to see his shelter more than she wanted to see any of the tourist spots in L.A.
“I can take you there this afternoon if you want, before your appointment with Bec. Call me when you’ve finished at the television station, but I warn you, it can sometimes be depressing.” Then as an afterthought, he added, “You don’t want to visit so you can analyze the kids, do you?”
“No.” She spoke quickly and honestly. For the first time in forever, her job hadn’t been her primary motivation for doing something. “I want to see it because it’s yours.”
* * *
“Okay.” Nate turned back to the dishwasher. He didn’t want Holly to see his chest swelling ridiculously at her words. He had to remind himself he didn’t want a woman, any woman, saying such complimentary things about him. Unless she were talking about things he’d done to her in bed, in that case he was more than happy to listen to compliments till the cows came home. Unfortunately, he hadn’t managed to get that far with Holly.
In many ways being around Holly had been easier when he was still holding onto the belief she was a wicked fame-seeker.
Then, he’d had good reason for controlling his carnal urges.
Desperate for noise and an occupation, he picked up his empty plate and began to load the dishwasher, all the while wondering if he should mention kissing her yesterday. All the while wondering if he should turn around, close the gap between them and pick up where they’d left off.
If he were smart, he’d have kissed her the moment she’d walked into the kitchen this morning, making his intentions clear and maybe taking her upstairs quickly before her ride arrived. But he’d missed that opportunity and now…
He closed the dishwasher door harder than he meant to and pressed Start before realizing he hadn’t put the detergent in or waited for Holly’s dishes.
Dammit.
He straightened, closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. What the hell was Holly doing to him? He wasn’t a hundred percent sure he should be encouraging any further interactions with her considering how she was messing with his equilibrium. He’d lain on his bed well into the early hours of the morning, the sheets draped messily over him as he stared at the ceiling like a frustrated teenage boy whose girlfriend refused to put out.
Only this was worse because he hadn’t even tried to make a move when he’d bid Holly good night. So many opportunities to cradle her face and kiss away her worries. Even after she’d stopped sobbing on his shoulder, long after they’d shared a pizza and watched a movie like a regular boring couple at home on a weeknight, he still hadn’t been able to follow through on his urge to make a move.
He’d been turning the reasons over and over in his head all night, punching his pillow in despair and frustration. He was definitely attracted to her—simply being in the same room as her had his fingers itching to touch and his trousers tighter than normal—but no matter the urges, something held him back.
Could be because she was staying with him and he already felt like they were playing house.
He didn’t want her getting the impression he was offering a long term thing. But that was crazy because she was a smart, intellectual woman and hadn’t once indicated she’d ever like to move to L.A. Besides that, Daisy had stayed over numerous times and he’d never been worried about her getting the wrong idea. But Daisy was a different kettle of fish altogether. He was almost nervous about trying to kiss Holly again and he’d never been nervous about kissing anyone.