“Oh my gosh,” I said through a mouthful of bread. “Don’t laugh at me. I’m starving.”
“I’m not laughing at you. You’re fucking adorable,” he said so nonchalantly that I almost choked. “And you eat carbs. It’s refreshing.”
“Your charms won’t work on me, so just save your breath,” I warned as I tried to convince myself those lies were true.
“Is that a fact?”
“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled, my mouth filled with warm, carby goodness. It was so damned tasty I was tempted to stand up in the middle of the restaurant and remind all the female patrons what they were missing. “Eat the bread! It’s delicious! Screw your diet!” I wanted to scream. What had happened to our generation anyway? Denying ourselves good food was just plain senseless. Oh well, I thought, more for me. And my ass.
“You keep making faces like that and I might have my way with you right here in this booth,” Walker whispered, his breath warm in my ear.
When had he moved that close?
I snorted. “In your dreams, pretty boy.”
“Pretty boy?” he choked out, hitting his chest with his palm.
I turned my head toward him and offered a tight-lipped smile. “Well, you are sort of pretty.”
And he was. Like many celebrities, he had a gorgeous tan, although up close his didn’t look artificial. And those eyes. I needed to stop looking at them. The longer I stared, the more they attempted to render me useless and stupid. He wanted me to be stupid.
“Thanks, I think.” He glanced away, shaking his head and moving his lips, but no sound came out. “No. Fuck that. I don’t want to be pretty. Pretty’s for chicks. I’m not a chick.”
“Trust me, I know you’re not a chick,” I said as I reached across him for another piece of bread, my hand brushing against his, causing a familiar spark from the concert to come to life and rush through me. Startled, I pulled back quickly, empty-handed.
“That’s good.” He sighed. “Didn’t want to have to show you just how much of a man I really am.”
“I’ve already read about it in all the tabloids anyway,” I said with a snicker.
Walker shot me a sidelong glance and said jokingly, “You’re a pain in my ass. Remind me why I wanted to see you again?”
I shrugged. “Hell if I know! That’s what I keep asking you.”
“You really don’t remember, do you?” His lips puckered and his eyes looked wistful as confusion clouded my brain.
“Remember what?”
He sucked in a breath before waving me off. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“Are you talking about the concert? Of course I remember the concert.”
He tapped his fingers against the table, and looked away. “Yeah. The concert.”
“You’re weird.” I stuffed another bite of bread into my mouth, already feeling much more in control of my senses and less affected by the alcohol from earlier. I finished off the rest of my water just to be safe, and left my second whiskey sour untouched.
“Yeah? Well, you’re the one at dinner with me.”
“Not by choice.” The words tumbled from my lips before I could stop them.
Shit.
The spoon he’d been fiddling with dropped to the tabletop and clanged against it, the sound cutting through my eardrums. “Wait. What did you just say?” Walker’s tone tightened instantly, no longer amused or flirtatious.
Anxious energy swirled in the pit of my belly as I thought about not answering at all. Shoot. I needed to fix this, but how?
“Madison. You said you weren’t here by choice. What does that mean?”
I met his eyes and answered honestly. “My boss made me come tonight.”
“He what? Why the fuck would he do that?”
The anger and hurt in his voice stirred up my sympathies, and I fought off the urge to wrap my arms around him and tell him I didn’t mean it.
“Because,” I said lamely, pausing as I tried to think up a good lie. I went with the easiest response. “I don’t know.”
He narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger at me. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t fucking lie to me, Madison.”
It was a demeaning and infuriating thing, to be pointed at. “Don’t point at me!” I snapped as he looked down at his finger before pulling it back, his face still hard.
I’d always prided myself on my personal integrity, but this was a new low for me. In this moment I was no better than my boss, or any of the other assholes in the entertainment industry who did shady things to get ahead.
“He wants you to sign with him, okay? He heard you were looking for an agent and he wants it to be him.” I looked away from him, instead focusing on the patterns in the grain of the wood tabletop.
“Is that why you’re here?” he bit out, his tone sounding angry and confused, and maybe a little bit betrayed.
“Yes,” I admitted with a huff, my involvement in this situation making me feel like a total dirtbag.
“Did you come here tonight for any other reason?”
“No,” I answered, my gaze still locked on the table.
“Tell me something then, Madison.” He practically sneered my name, as if saying it caused a bad taste to form in his mouth. I didn’t have to see him to imagine the disgusted look that must have been on his face. “If your boss hadn’t made you come here tonight, would you have come on your own?”
I didn’t know if it was because his pointing at me had pissed me off, or if the way he practically spat my name did, but my answer was brutal in its simplicity. “No.”
“Leave.”
My gaze raised slowly from the table to meet his face, his expression anything but disgusted and angry like I had imagined. He honestly looked hurt, which confused my heart and made it flip-flop inside my chest. This entire day had been filled with nothing but drama, and I hated drama. Which was ironic considering the business I was in.
“I said leave! Get out of here!” he shouted, and everyone in the restaurant turned to face our table. “And you can let your boss know that I wouldn’t sign with his company if it was the last agency on Earth.”
You could have heard a breath being sucked in, if anyone was breathing at all anymore, which I was certain they weren’t. Mortified, I grabbed my black clutch and scooted out of the booth, practically sprinting for the exit as I prayed I wouldn’t stumble in my three-inch heels. Heat flared in my entire body as dozens of eyes burned holes in the back of my head.
Only once I burst out of the restaurant doors and the cool evening air hit my face did I suck in a freeing breath.
I had a reprieve.
Little did I know how short that reprieve would prove to be.
Cameras flashed all around me as the paparazzi screamed my name and asked where Walker was. The fact that they knew my name eluded me in that instant as I struggled to see my own hand in front of my face, the bright flashes blinding me with each burst of unnatural light. I practically threw the valet my ticket, partly because I couldn’t see him, but also because I was so desperate to be anywhere but there.
How mortifying had this night been? Ugh. And all because my boss had threatened my job.
“Madison! Madison, wait!” Walker called out as he burst through the restaurant doors behind me. I turned to face him, but it was pointless. I couldn’t see a damn thing.
The paparazzi went nuts, shouting both Walker’s name and mine as flashes surrounded us.
“Just leave me alone, Walker,” I spat. “I’m sure you can find someone in there to take home tonight. Try the hostess. She looks easy.”
The men with the cameras all oohed and aahed at my comment before firing off their own questions and comments as Walker gritted his teeth.