Текст книги "Red Carpet Kiss"

Автор книги: Melissa Brown

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Whoa.”

Whitney leaned forward in her chair and clutched a Twizzler with both hands. She stared at Elle in disbelief and Elle wanted to hide her head in shame from her best friend. She couldn’t imagine what Whitney must have been thinking about her behavior in Vegas.

“I tried, Whit. I tried to get him back.”

Whitney sat up straight and wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “You did?”

Elle nodded and tears formed in her eyes all over again. “After I went to his place, I sent him e-mails, left voice mail messages, wrote letters, and taped notes to his door. It never mattered. He changed his phone number, his e-mail address, everything. There was nothing I could do.”

“It was too late.” Whitney’s voice was a sharp whisper.

“He was done.” She’d hear the shuffling of feet, and someone would stand, look through the peephole, and then walk away. And her heart broke more and more each time until finally she couldn’t even bear the thought of crossing the threshold of his building.

“So you filed the annulment papers?”

Elle sniffed, then wiped her eyes and nose with a tissue. “I had to, Whit. I had this idea the first time I went there. I was going to bring them with me, tear them up, beg his forgiveness. But he didn’t answer the door. And eventually, I stopped putting them in my purse whenever I went there. There was no use.”

“Oh, honey.” Whitney placed her hand over her heart and tilted her head. “My heart is breaking. I can’t believe you held on to this for ten years.”

Elle was quiet for a moment. “Wouldn’t you?”

Whitney closed her eyes and nodded. “Yeah, I guess I would. But I still don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell him you needed more time? Why did you walk down that aisle?”

“I’ve thought about this for years. Literally years. The honest answer is, I didn’t want to disappoint him. The year we dated, I’m not kidding, was blissful. Perfect. If I’d said no that morning, everything would have changed. I loved him, Whit. I always wanted him.”

“But not enough.”

Elle cringed. “I guess not.”

“But now he’s back.”

“Yeah, he’s back and my life’s in a tailspin. I have no idea what to do.”

“Do you still have feelings for him?”

“I don’t think I ever stopped having feelings for him.”

“So maybe this is your chance. People come into our lives for a reason. Maybe this is your second chance at happiness, Ellie.”

“I don’t know. Part of me wants to think so, but I just—”

“Is it Luke? Is that the problem?”

Elle thought about the handsome actor, the one who calmed her but challenged her as well. The one who made her knees buckle and her toes tingle. Of course, he was a factor in her hesitation.

“Yeah. I mean, we’re not exclusive, but the thought of him being with Gina . . . or anyone else really, it makes me want to punch something. Hard.” A knot formed in Elle’s belly just at the thought of Gina and Luke together.

“So tell him. Tell him you want to be monogamous.”

“I don’t know . . .” Her voice trailed off as she stared down at her desk.

“Because of Troy. You want to see what might happen.”

“Maybe, yeah. I just feel—unsettled. My head is in a daze, and not in a good way. The idea of betraying either of them makes me sick to my stomach.”

“You listen to me, you’re a grown woman. There is nothing wrong with exploring this. You owe it to yourself to see what you want. Not what Troy wants or what Luke wants. But what you want.”

“What if Troy’s right about me? What if I can never commit to anyone else? Am I gonna end up some crazy old maid who writes about romance, but who has absolutely no idea what she’s talking about?”

“Okay, bite your tongue. No one even says ‘old maid’ anymore. And have you ever thought maybe you just can’t commit yourself to him?”

“I’ve considered it.”

“But . . . ?”

“But I felt guilty. Troy’s wonderful. I mean seriously, there’s no one better.”

“Honey, he could be the most perfect person on the planet, but if he’s not the guy for you, that’s all that matters. Stop. Feeling. Guilty.”

Elle leaned her elbows on the desk, hanging her head in her hands. “If only . . .”

Elle heard Whitney rise to her feet to stand behind her. She stroked Elle’s back gently with her hand. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Put me to sleep,” Elle joked. “Put me out of my misery.”

“Nah. You’re stronger than that. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“Me?” Elle’s eyebrows pinched together. “You need to get out more.”

“I’m serious, Ellie. You’re a strong, intelligent, creative woman. Yes, you’ve made mistakes. Yes, you hurt someone you never intended to hurt. You’re human, irrevocably human.”

Elle stood, wiped her face, and sank into Whitney’s arms. “Thank you for being you.”

“I love you, honey. You’ll figure this out.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You will.”

Elle’s moment of comfort in Whitney’s arms was short-lived when Nicole buzzed.

“Elle, Luke Kingston is here to see you.”

“Oh God,” Elle murmured into Whitney’s shoulder.

“He doesn’t know any of this, does he?” Whitney handed her the box of tissue; Elle eagerly grabbed a tissue and dabbed her face. She didn’t want Luke to see her like this.

“No.”

Elle pressed against the intercom button. “Please send him in.”

“No time like the present,” Whitney said, walking to the door. “Text me later. Let me know how you’re doing, all right?”

Luke opened the door, giving Elle a conflicted expression the moment he saw her tears. She knew it was time to be completely honest with him, even if it meant he ran as far away from her as possible. He and Whitney exchanged pleasantries before Whitney vacated the office. As soon as the door clicked behind her, Luke crossed the room to Elle, wrapping an arm around her.

“Baby, what’s going on? You’ve been crying.”

“I know. And I know I should tell you—”

“So tell me.”

“It’s . . . it’s difficult.”

“Listen to me, I can handle it. I promise.” He pulled away, his hands still holding her arms. “Things have been different with you. Tell me what’s going on. I feel like you’re slipping through my fingers.”

“I don’t mean to, I just—I’m not sure where to start.”

Elle sat in her chair and Luke eased himself against her desk, placing his hands in his pockets. “Have I done something? I know you think I’ve gone Hollywood, but I—”

“No, no.” Elle shook her head decisively. “This isn’t about that. It’s about me. About what I did, a long time ago.”

Luke flinched, but then his expression relaxed. “Knowing you, you’re being too hard on yourself.”

“Maybe you should wait until after you hear what I did. You might change your mind.”

“Fine. Hit me.” Luke smiled his boyish grin, and Elle knew right then and there she was safe with him. She could tell him anything, even what she did in Vegas.

“The owner of the restaurant . . .”

“Your ex-boyfriend.”

“Actually, he was my husband.”

Luke’s eyes widened.

“It was brief,” she added quickly, “but . . . it happened.”

Luke rubbed his chin with his fingertips. “Didn’t expect that, but okay. I don’t care that you were married—is that what you were worried about?”

“It’s more complicated than that. We did it on a whim, after dating for a while. And I broke it off almost immediately, like less than two days later. We were in Vegas and it was a mess. I hurt him so badly, Luke. More than I’ve ever hurt anyone.”

“Why did you marry him? You know, if you didn’t really want to?”

“I got all wrapped up in it, I guess. I didn’t want the relationship to end, but that’s exactly what happened. He couldn’t forgive me and cut off contact for ten years.”

“Ten years? Ouch.”

“I thought he was still in Chicago. The last place in the world I expected him to be was here.”

“Maybe he followed you.” Luke raised his eyebrows and leaned his head forward, his lips pressed into a thin line. Was he being protective of her? If so, despite the fact she knew he was way off base in his assumption, she liked it. She liked him being protective of her. It was sexy, yet subtle.

“No, he didn’t. He was just as shocked as I was.” Elle studied Luke’s expression. He didn’t seem convinced. “If you knew Troy, you’d know he had no intention of ever seeing me again. He has a child and her mother relocated. That’s the only reason he’s here.”

Luke pulled Elle from the chair, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling into her neck. A delicious shiver ran down her spine. Luke in protective mode was possibly the sexiest Luke she’d yet to encounter. She wanted to lose herself in his embrace as she always did.

“There’s more. The show you’re working on is, for all intents and purposes, our story. He’s Desmond and I’m Molly.”

Luke pulled back, running his hand through his hair and glancing around Elle’s office. “Wait, so you’re telling me this . . . all of this is about him?”

Elle looked down at the carpet. “Yes.”

“Are you still in love with the guy?”

“What?” Elle asked, taken aback. She had no idea how to answer that question tactfully. She’d never stopped having feelings for Troy. And part of her wondered if she ever would. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

“Yes.”

“This is ridiculous.” Elle returned to her chair and swiveled to open her desk drawer, retrieving a pen and paper, doing whatever she could to avoid the question. Luke grabbed the arm of her chair and brought her back to center. Once again, they locked eyes. The air in Elle’s lungs seemed to fly from her chest.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Luke said, gritting his teeth.

“Are you . . . jealous?” The corner of Elle’s mouth pulled up into a curious smile. She wanted to savor this moment with Luke, to forget the pain and anguish she’d caused herself and Troy.

Luke cocked his head to the side. “And what if I am?”

Elle scrunched her lips, enjoying this side of the carefree actor. Jealous Luke was even sexier than Protective Luke. She was never one to make men jealous, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t savor Luke’s reaction. It made her ridiculously happy. As much as she fought it, a large grin crossed her face as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“Look,” Luke continued, his expression still serious, “I don’t trust him. He left you behind and never looked back. He’s a moron.”

“Didn’t you hear my story? I’m the moron. Me. I’m the one who destroyed him, not the other way around.”

Luke pulled her gently from the chair and placed soft kisses on each of her cheeks. “Anyone who could walk away from you is an idiot. End of story. I don’t care what mistakes you made. If he knew you, really knew you, he wouldn’t have pushed. You have to do things on your own time.”

Elle’s breath caught. She disagreed with Luke. She didn’t think Troy had pushed her. But she was astonished at how well Luke knew her—really knew her. He was right. Elle not only liked being in control, but doing things on her own time, her own schedule, was absolutely imperative for her comfort and happiness. It was her way, and the fact Luke understood that, that he respected it, was something to appreciate. Perhaps she wasn’t giving the handsome actor enough credit. Obviously, he understood her more than she’d ever anticipated.

“You’re right. I don’t like to be pushed.”

Luke licked his lips; his fingers ran south to Elle’s ass. Without warning, he reached down and hoisted her up. She gasped and wrapped her legs around his waist. He shifted his weight to turn them, perching Elle atop her desk. And for the first time that day, she allowed Troy to leave her mind completely. She was completely and utterly wrapped up in Luke Kingston.

“Most of the time.” She raised a devious eyebrow before taking his mouth with her own. Luke’s hands roamed through her curly hair as his tongue pressed to hers. Her toes curled at the sensations overtaking her body. The touch, the feel of Luke was intoxicating and Elle couldn’t get enough of him. Eagerly, her tongue caressed his and her hands ran up and down his back, pulling him as close to her as possible.

“Wanna get outta here?” he asked between kisses, his voice husky and deep. Elle could feel his length pressed against her pelvis, and she wanted to lose herself in him, to forget all of her mistakes, to take a break from reality.

“Lock the door,” she whispered.

A satisfied grin crossed Luke’s lips. “You never stop surprising me, Elle Riley.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

Luke nodded before kissing her lips, her chin, her neck. “The best.”

Elle’s heart thumped uncontrollably and shots of adrenaline zoomed through her abdomen. No matter how much positive self-talk she gave herself, the idea of seeing Troy was feeling like more than she could handle. After her drunken visit to his restaurant, they’d exchanged several text messages and agreed to meet for dinner on a Monday evening. Troy’s restaurant was closed on Mondays and it was the only time he could get away during the dinner hour. When he asked if he could pick the place, Elle agreed immediately. Troy always had such impeccable taste when it came to food and restaurants. She’d only been in the Los Angeles area for a few years, and aside from the takeout places near her home and the studio, she was still pretty clueless about local cuisine.

Troy had chosen a tiny hole-in-the-wall Indian place. When she walked in, she inhaled the familiar scents. The smoky trace of cumin and the aromatic cardamom were the first she recognized. Next came the earthy tone of turmeric and the spicy smell of red pepper. She and Troy had eaten so much Indian food while living in Chicago since her apartment was above an Indian restaurant. Secretly, she wondered if that was the reason for his choice in restaurant. A walk down memory lane, perhaps? Regardless of the reason, Elle’s mind was swimming in memories of Troy and Indian food. Of laughter and samosas. Of romantic sentiments and tikka masala.

Troy was waiting at a small table when she arrived. She glanced down at her watch, hoping she wasn’t late. Troy chuckled as she approached, standing to greet her with a kiss on the cheek.

“You’re right on time.”

“How do you do that?”

“What?” Troy pulled the chair out for her.

She smiled as she sat. “Read my mind.”

“You looked at your watch the second you saw me.”

“Oh.” Elle shook off her thoughts of kismet and serendipity. He had read her body language; that was all. “Of course. So you like this place?”

“Yeah. It’s not as good as back home, but it’s close.” He gestured to the full wineglass in front of her place setting. “I ordered you a California rosé.”

“Ah, perfect.” Elle took a large sip of the slightly sweet wine, which in her opinion paired beautifully with Indian cuisine. “How are the samosas?”

“Ah yes, you and your samosas. You’ve always been an appetizer girl.”

Elle liked how playful Troy was being. Their other interactions had been so tense, despite their efforts to keep things friendly. Today, he seemed more at ease, which in turn helped her to relax as well.

“Nobody gets between me and a mozzarella stick.” Elle felt herself flirting and embraced it. After all their years apart, it felt good to be playful with Troy again.

“Or an order of nachos . . . or Wisconsin cheese curds . . . should I go on?” Troy winked and handed Elle her menu.

“Nah, I think we both know my affinity for snack food.”

“Are you still keeping candy at your desk?”

“Of course, but only the fruity stuff. I gave up chocolate. Too fattening.”

Troy shook his head and closed his eyes, chuckling under his breath. “I don’t think you’ve ever had to worry about that.”

“What? My weight?”

“Mm hmm, you’ve always had a great body.” Troy’s eyes roamed her as he spoke, centering on her chest. Elle wondered what had come over him—when did he have this sudden change of heart? He looked at her with appreciation rather than contempt, and it filled her heart with hope.

“Says the man with the permanent six-pack.”

“Not anymore, I’m afraid. Too much pizza, it’s gone to my gut.” Troy smacked his stomach lightly with his palm. Elle rolled her eyes. His chest and abs still looked as firm as they did when they were a couple, at least with his clothes on.

“Sure,” she murmured. “I almost believe that.” Troy was never one to fish for a compliment, so she decided he was just being hard on himself. Seeing as he was a perfectionist like herself, that was the obvious conclusion.

Troy laughed again and finished his glass of scotch. Troy always ordered two fingers of scotch on the rocks before any dinner out, especially Indian food. When he received his first job offer after college, Elle had purchased a bottle of Johnnie Walker Platinum to celebrate. She’d purchased another for herself when the pilot of Follow the Sun first aired. Even though they’d enjoyed scotch together more times than she could count, she didn’t know why she did it, since it was Troy’s drink, not hers. But now guilt swarmed her belly as she remembered that she and Luke opened that bottle. Quickly, she pushed the guilt from her mind. She was determined to enjoy this meal, this evening, this time with Troy.

Their waitress took their order, and they quickly fell back into old patterns. Ordering two dishes to split as well as a large order of samosas to snack on prior to the entrees. The wine was doing its job. As she indulged in the second glass, tingles ran down her arms, and her muscles relaxed. Troy had finished his scotch and both were able to ease back into old banter.

Elle’s teeth pierced the first samosa. Steam escaped the small puffy triangle and she relished the savory taste of peas, potatoes, and lentils.

“Mmm, why have I gone so long without having Indian food?” Elle shook her head in amazement as she savored the flavors in her mouth.

“How long?”

A small chunk of potato dropped to her plate and she hoped Troy hadn’t noticed. “Hmm?”

“How long since you’ve had Indian food?”

Elle froze and looked down at her plate, avoiding eye contact. “A long time.”

“I see.” Troy nodded. “Since Chicago?”

Elle nodded, feeling foolish.

“Seriously?” Troy’s voice dropped an octave.

When Elle first entered the restaurant, she had no idea just how long it’d been. She didn’t realize just how many things were tied to her past with this man, just how stunted she’d allowed the past ten years to be without him. It went beyond her love life, beyond her fear of getting hurt. It was permeating her habits, her tastes, everything. She was thirty-five years old. It was time to figure out, finally, who she was.

Troy cleared his throat. “Rigby?”

Elle looked up with a confused expression, unaware of how long she’d been lost in thought.

“Where’d you go?”

“I was just thinking. I’ve been doing that a lot lately.” She dabbed her mouth with her napkin and quickly gulped down the remainder of her wine.

Troy reached across the table. Elle hesitated briefly, looking at his outstretched arm, before grasping his fingertips with her own. “Maybe we both need to stop thinking so damn much.”

Elle’s teeth dug into her bottom lip as his words set in. “Maybe.” They ate in silence for several minutes before Elle changed the subject. “Tell me about Payton.”

Troy sat up tall in his chair, a gleam developing in his eyes. “She’s awesome, such a great kid. I get to see her every other weekend and every Thursday.”

“That must be hard.”

“We make it work. I miss her a lot, though.” He scratched the skin of his forehead, looking down at the table. “She’s a lot like me.”

Elle eased her elbows onto the table, perching her chin on her linked hands. “Like how? Is she stubborn?”

“Oh yeah, big-time. She’s a pistol. Can’t get much by that kid, she keeps me on my toes for sure.”

“And her mother?”

“I guess you could say we’re friends. If it wasn’t for Payton, we wouldn’t be, but we get along just fine. We’ve made the best out of a difficult situation.”

“That’s really admirable. Obviously, I’m not a parent, but I think it would be hard to raise a child with someone else, especially if you’re not . . . you know, together.”

Troy shifted in his seat, took another drink, then asked, “How about you? Do you think you’ll ever want kids?”

Elle didn’t expect that question; even though he delivered it casually, she knew it was loaded. Troy wanted to know how she felt about motherhood seeing as she was thirty-five, single, and without children. She was also married to her job, and worked at least fifty to sixty hours per week.

“Honestly? I’m not sure.”

“Really? Did something change your mind? You always said—”

“I know, it’s just . . . the show is so consuming. I’m not sure I could focus on a baby until it goes off the air. And I’m hoping that won’t be for a long time.” Elle picked at her food, unsure of how Troy would feel about her lack of drive toward motherhood. He was right, though. In her twenties, Elle always assumed she’d have a family. Hell, at that age, she expected to have at least two children by her midthirties. But she also never expected to be the creator of the biggest television drama on any network. Things change.

“Makes sense. You’d be good at it, though.”

“You really think so?” She let out a sardonic laugh. “I think I’d be a nightmare. So anal-retentive, so structured and demanding.” She laughed into her napkin.

“Nah.” Troy studied her face, before licking his lips and smiling. “I think you’d do just fine.”

For the first time since she entered the restaurant, a shot of adrenaline made its way through her body, making her quite aware of the effect Troy still had on her. His opinion mattered, as it always had. The fact he thought she’d be a good mom was endearing, special. It meant something.

“Thank you.”

This time Elle extended her arm across the table, opening her hand in invitation. Troy’s lips formed a soft smile before he placed his hand in hers. They sat in the middle of the restaurant, hands interlocked, and said nothing. They simply smiled at one another, appreciating the common ground they’d managed to find after so many years, and Elle was so grateful.

“I have to ask you something, and I hope it won’t spoil the night because, so far, it’s been really nice.”

Tension hung over the table. Elle wrinkled her nose, but squeezed Troy’s hand, waiting for his question.

“Are you still seeing that guy? The one you brought to my place?”

There was no way Elle would lie. She had to be honest. Instinctively, she pulled her hand from Troy’s. He stared down at the empty space between them. “Yes. We’re dating, but we’re not a couple or anything just yet.”

Troy’s forehead relaxed and he scratched the back of his neck. His cheeks turned pink as he grinned. “Okay, cool.”

“Cool?” Elle was amused. She’d expected tension, a possible ultimatum or a warning from Troy that he wouldn’t get involved with her if she was seeing someone else. But instead he wore a boyish grin on his handsome face and she wished she could read his mind, if only for a brief moment, to know what was going on in his head.

“Yeah.”

“I wish I could read your mind right now.”

Troy leaned in across the table, his eyes boring into hers. “I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

Elle felt bold, as if she had nothing to lose. Her breath was quickening as her eyes remained fixed on Troy’s. “Try me.”

Troy lowered his voice to a whisper. “Right now, I’m thinking about how good your lips would taste. I’m thinking about how much I want to pay the check, walk out of here, and press you up against the bricks of the building.” He paused for a minute. “Should I go on?”

Elle had a sudden awareness of her own heartbeat; her fingers tingled with the need to touch and be touched by the gorgeous man on the other side of the table. Those eyes, those soulful brown eyes, focused on hers as if she were the most beautiful creature on the planet.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He glanced around briefly before continuing. “I’m thinking about pressing you against that brick wall, and unbuttoning your blouse. I’d take my time, savoring the look and feel of you as I opened each one.”

Elle swallowed hard, her palms began to sweat, and her nerve endings stirred beneath her skin. Their hands were still enmeshed on the table, and she realized Troy was now stroking her palm with his fingertips. That simple touch left her craving him, as much of him as she could possibly obtain. She wanted to make the table vanish, to push it all aside, eliminating all distance between her and the man who was making her heart pound out of control.

“What else?” She parted her legs slightly, feeling completely enveloped in her need for Troy.

“I’ll pay the check and then I’ll tell you. How does that sound?”

“Good.”

Troy released her hand and rose from the table. He walked to the other side of the restaurant, where their waiter happened to be standing. He pulled him aside, opened his wallet, and handed him a bundle of cash. Then, with a cocky grin, he joined Elle, who managed to stand despite her wobbly and weakened knees.

When he took her hand and led her outside, Troy did exactly what he had described inside. The brick felt harsh against her back, but it didn’t matter. All she wanted was to touch and explore every inch of Troy’s body. His lips crashed against hers. One hand cupped her ass as the other toyed with the collar of her blouse.

“God, I’ve missed you,” she murmured between kisses as Troy unbuttoned the first button of her blouse. “I’ve missed this.”

“Shhh,” Troy whispered, popping the next button, exposing the lace of her bra. His fingertips danced over the exposed fabric, tickling her sensitive skin, creating a delectable shiver down her spine. His lips pressed again to hers, and immediately Elle opened her mouth, inviting him in. He deepened the kiss, stroking her tongue with his own in determined yet gentle strokes. Arousal built within her as her hands roamed his back, his neck, his hair.

“Should we go somewhere . . . somewhere more private?” Elle asked, suddenly aware they were in public when she heard the voices of people walking past the restaurant. “Your place, maybe?”

“No,” Troy answered.

Elle pressed her hands against his shoulders, pushing him away from her. “No?”

“I think we should say good night.”

“You can’t be serious.” Elle’s vision became clouded, and her throat ran dry.

“I think we should take things slow.”

“You call this slow?” She could feel her pulse pounding in her ears. She planted her feet in a wide stance, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “What’s going on, Troy? Are you still pissed off? Is this all a game to you?”

Troy ran his fingers through his hair. “No, of course not. You know me better than that.”

“Maybe not.” Her fingers fumbled to button her blouse. She felt ridiculous, foolish, like Troy was playing with her emotions. Turning her on only to walk away from her. She’d felt that ten years ago; she didn’t want to feel it again.

Troy pushed her bangs from her eyes. “Don’t say that. I promise you, I’m not playing games. I’m just trying to be respectful . . . and I want to be sure before anything . . . happens.”

They locked eyes and Elle knew exactly what Troy was trying to say. He didn’t want to sleep with her only to realize he could never truly forgive what happened in Las Vegas. He didn’t want to lead her on.

“But I want to see you again.” He pressed his forehead to hers and sighed. “God, I want to see you again.”

Troy’s lips pressed gently to hers and she relaxed, hoping to God he wasn’t leading her on. She wanted to trust him so badly, yet wanted to run far, far away from the utter confusion only Troy could bring.

“When?” she asked, glaring at him with daggers in her eyes, still questioning his intentions.

“Saturday night.”

“What about the restaurant?”

“I’ll make it work.”

“Okay, fine. Saturday.”

They walked in silence to Elle’s car. The only sounds were the cars whizzing by and the clicking of her heels against the pavement. With a chaste kiss, they said good night, and Elle drove home more confused than ever.

Why did things have to be so damn complicated?