“But we are together because of it. You asked me to be seen with you.” No matter how tempting his words, she would stay sensible.
Undeterred, he said, “Think of it as the inciting incident to throw us together.”
“Okay.”
He clapped his hands, then rubbed them together and sat down beside her on the bed. “Brilliant. And go.”
“As in action?” At his nod, she looked around the room. She hadn’t been on a date in years. Not the get to know you kind, anyway. “Tell me why you got into acting. What motivated you?”
“Money and women aren’t enough?”
Rolling her eyes, she said, “Then tell me how you get into character instead.”
“When I take on a character I talk to myself in the mirror and make the facial expressions that they would. I become that person. I assume their habits, attitude, swagger, what have you, but lately, it’s been getting kind of…”
“Easy?”
“Exactly, easy and boring. Not that it’s not challenging, but now it’s more physical than mental. You know: run here, look intense. Jump on top of that and look really concerned.” The bed dipped as he moved closer. “At first I only took parts for what they inspired in me and what they could inspire in others, but now it’s just for the payout.”
“Have you ever considered going back to the way things were before?”
In the blink of an eye Christian was back on. “And miss out on running into you at the airport? Never.”
“You would’ve avoided being stabbed.”
He rubbed his chin. “Your version of foreplay is rather violent and bloody.”
“While your version of flirting is rather graphic and smug.”
“Can’t help what I am, love.”
“So humble.”
“Always.” He gave her a wicked smile and wink, then sobered. “Can we stop with the acting questions? It’s all people expect me to talk about. You could tell me about the first time we met.”
He wasn’t the first man or woman in history to forget who they made out with at a New Year’s Eve party, but it didn’t stop her from saying, “Or you could share that story since I’m…what was the word you used—unforgettable?”
“Sorry about that.”Cheeks turning red, he looked down and pulled his cell out of his pocket, playing with the screen. He acted as if he were ashamed of his behavior, only that was the problem. He was a really good actor. “I’ve spent most of my life drunk, high or a combination of the two. I can’t remember a lot of people or the things I’ve done. It’s one of the reasons why I need you.”
This time, the sharp pain she’d been expecting didn’t come. It was still there, only dulled. Manageable. Searching her brain, she tried to think of topics that didn’t involve his previously hurtful behavior. Maybe this was why talking was over-rated. They needed to do something.
The carts loaded with uneaten food caught her eye. She touched his leg and his head jerked up. “Want to do something fun?”
“That is the naughtiest I’ve seen you look thus far—I’m in.”
“Best two out of three.”
“No more,” she laughed, white teeth flashing at him as more hair cascaded over her shoulders.
A cotton candy-colored tongue licked at her sweet lips and he had to adjust himself. Again. Make that for the five hundredth time. He would be sporting blue balls come tomorrow. “Not even if I promise to let you win this time?”
Talking her into playing ‘Angry Birds’ with him had been too easy. She’d practically jumped at the chance. A small part of him wondered if it was because she didn’t find him interesting beyond his actor’s persona.
He had thought she’d had fun while they’d gone door to door, giving away the food he ordered. He’d posed for pictures when people recognized him, and had been gleeful when they didn’t. At the last hotel room, when a woman old enough to be his great-grandmother had propositioned him, Zoe had tried to save him by saying, “Are you trying to take my man?”
“Good God, please take me far, far away from here,” he’d said under his breath.
Only pervert granny had invited Zoe to join in on the fun as well. Then two of her friends, men wearing black leather and ball gags, appeared at the door.
Zoe had grabbed his hand and shouted, “Run.”
They’d taken off, running like zombies were after them. When they’d gotten back to her room, she‘d collapsed on the bed breathing hard and giggling. Until he’d tried kissing her, then she’d nearly fallen off the bed in her hurry to get away.
He sighed, then focused his attention on her as he waited for her answer.
“I’m really tired. At home it’s almost five in the morning, not two,” she said.
“Lightweight.”
“What will we do next to impress the press?” she asked, handing him the iPad he had sent down from his penthouse. As soon as he learned she didn’t have one, he’d ordered one from the nearest store. He couldn’t wait for her to get it.
“I take it you’ve forgiven me?”
“Ordering things covered with chocolate helped your cause. Besides, I’m a sucker for—”
“Handsome English actors with a big… bank account?”
“I was going to say the runt of the litter. You know the one that gets tossed to the side because he’s not big enough.” Without knowing it, her remark hit a little too close to home.
“You would choose what no one else wants.” He set the iPad to the side.
She briefly touched his cheek. “Christian Romanov, there is more to you than meets the public eye.”
His skin felt too tight for his body and an uneasy silence settle between them. But she didn’t say more. Didn’t try to press him. Just looked at him with her dark eyes and waited patiently for him to decide his fate. Their fate.
What the hell was wrong with him? This was just a date. And not even a planned one. “I’ll take you where ever you want,” Christian said after regaining his composure. “We’ll call it a late birthday present.”
“Fly me to Paris and let’s eat at an outdoor café where they serve fancy coffee in small cups,” she said with a dreamy sigh.
“Ah, yes, I should have guessed the romance author would want to go there. Got a passport handy?”
“Believe it or not, I do. Melanie—my best friend—must have slipped it in my carry-on.”
“Brilliant. We can go tomorrow then.” He’d arrange everything when he got back to his room. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, they should be in Paris before dinner.
“I’m only teasing, but…” she said, her expression completely serious.
An uneasy feeling passed through him. “But what?”
Her lashes lowered. “I have to confess something and it might change your opinion of me.”
“Doubtful.”
She waved him closer and whispered, “I don’t like coffee, not even the all decorated not to taste like coffee, er, coffee.”
He widened his eyes in mock horror. “I can’t be seen with a woman with such unrefined taste.”
“Didn’t stop you when you dated Jaylen Stone.”
Not what he was expecting. “You really want to know about my past?”
She nodded, plucking at the comforter. “What would you do if she suddenly turned up again? You know, if fate threw her back into your life and things seemed different? She was different, nothing like you remembered.”
“I don’t get back together with exes, especially ones that aren’t truthful with me,” he said sharply, making her draw back from him.
“What if she apologized and had a really good reason for being untruthful?”
“I might be able to forgive, but forget is a whole other story.” Grudges were championed like ancient Roman Gladiators in his family. “Besides, she isn’t the only woman in the world.”
“Must be nice to have a choice,’ she said, laying her head down on the pillow and staring up at him.
He made it easier for her and plumped up the pillow closest to him. The cool fabric under his face wasn’t as smooth as his pillows. Maybe he should send some down to her. Or better yet, have her sleep over. “I would think a woman like you has lots of choices. You’ve got me and Taylor Harper chasing after you.”
She laughed, the sound doing funny things to the beat of his heart. “I’m not a player. That would be you.”
“The politically correct term is ‘playa’ and I’m not really. The most ridiculous crap is made up about me on a daily basis.”
“Like?”
He thought for a minute, then said, “Not too long ago, I was working on a movie in Vancouver. Every night I had dinner with the cast and because most of the time I sat beside Vivian Cross, it was reported that we were having an affair. What wasn’t reported was that her husband was seated on the opposite side of her and she barely paid me any attention. They got the one shot where she asked me to pass the salt or something. Instant headlines.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t tell me you believed it, too.” He hoped not. For some reason he wanted Zoe to think the best about him. Her approval meant more to him than anything, almost as much as B.T. S.’s.
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. The only thing that counts is if you can live with your decisions and their consequences.”
“It wasn’t my decision to sit next to her nearly every night.”
Zoe sighed. “But it was your decision to cultivate the reputation you have. One that gives credibility to headlines like that.”
She was right, yet so very wrong. “Vivian never had a reputation like that, not before she was seated beside me. How’s that her fault?”
“I didn’t think about that.” She closed her eyes, dark lashes fanning to touch the tops of her cheeks. He wanted to kiss her there, then work his way down to her jaw and nibble until he found her lips. “I guess everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt. That maybe what we think is the truth really isn’t.”
“No, sometimes it is exactly what it is.” He was the one in those pictures, doing reprehensible things. No one had to manipulate his image.
Her eyes popped open, anxiety filling them. “There’s something we need to talk about.”
He panicked, thinking that she was done with him. That he wasn’t worth the hassle of the press and the lies. “Want to know something extremely true and possibly humiliating?
Anxiety gave way to curiosity. “I’m all ears.”
“I play piano and guitar by ear. And I collect PEZ dispensers.”
“Who would’ve thought silly candy dispensers would be so on the down low.”
Silly candy dispensers? “I have you know that I take my collection very seriously. Last summer, I attended the PEZ Convention in Austria and plan on going to the one in Myrtle Beach this November.”
“You go to conventions?”
“One must be taken seriously on the loops I subscribe to on Yahoo.” He tapped his chin. “I hope to find the elusive Elvis collection someday.”
“No wonder you don’t tell anyone,” she mumbled, then cleared her throat. “Let’s move on.”
“Brilliant idea.” He could prattle on endlessly about PEZ. The history, the elusive ten, and how they should be properly displayed. He closed his eyes as her fingers traced his lips and jaw. Now his only thoughts were to keep his hands to himself. To let her take the lead.
“Can you play anything you hear?”
“I’ve perfect ears.”
Her fingers stilled. “Don’t you mean perfect pitch?”
“It’s all the same. I’m in a word: perfect.” Perfectly screwed up in the head. His family was perfectly happy being estranged from one another. He opened his eyes.
“Perfectly full of hubris.”
“There you go with the big words. I’ll have to consult dictionary.com to converse with you.” He rolled onto his back and shoved his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. “Your turn.”
She made a pfft sound. “I’m not blogged about.”
“Now you are.”
“Yay me,” she grumbled.
He felt her slide over to him until her head rested on his chest. A sign that she wanted to be touched. Slowly, he uncrossed an arm and started sifting his fingers through her thick hair. “I’m waiting.”
“I was engaged until six months. His name was—is—Gabriel Edwards and my parents loved him. Or at least my mother did,” she snorted. “Who am I kidding? She still does and she’s still mad at me for ruining her plans.”
Wonder what Zoe would think if he told her that he was sublimely happy that she was no longer getting married. “What happened?”
“It was either him or my career.”
“You chose writing over love?” Somehow, this struck him wrong. Zoe, despite her protests to the contrary, was very traditional, very romantic at heart.
“When you love someone, it shouldn’t matter what they do. Serial killers and people who make chocolate covered raisins excluded.”
“We really need to work on your sense of humor.”
“Daniel Tosh gives me all the finer points of comedy when he performs.”
“You know him?”
“Only by his 140 characters,” she said.
“Your choices are bizarre to say the least,” he said. “Do you still see your ex?”
