Flynn’s eyes close, but then he rests his forehead against mine, and chuckles when he speaks. “Worried you didn’t bring rain boots?”
A cameraman comes in and interrupts, asking us to move to a different area where the lighting is better. I’m grateful for the quick change in mood it brings.
“Wanna go for a walk on the beach?” Flynn asks, releasing me from his arms, but keeping his hand still meshed with mine.
“Sure.”
“Do you want to go change?”
I look down at the gown I’m wearing. The salt will probably destroy it. “Nah, it’s theirs, not mine.”
Flynn smiles.
We walk along the shoreline for a half hour. The warm water occasionally reaching up and wetting our feet.
“So who is he?” he asks after a long, comfortable bout of silence.
I look around. There’s no one else on the beach.
“The guy who you won’t let go long enough to give me a real shot.”
I turn to look for the winded cameraman that was following us. The boom can pick up our conversation a hundred feet away.
“He’s sprawled out on the jetty a half mile back,” Flynn says, reading my mind. “Probably still cursing us for making him do more exercise than he’s done in ten years.”
“Oh.”
“So, who is he? Ex-boyfriend or fiancé?”
“Neither, actually.”
“Damn.” Flynn clutches at his chest. “You’re killing me. At least pretend there’s some great guy waiting in the wings.” He smiles.
“It’s not you. Really it’s not.”
“This conversation is getting worse by the minute. What comes next? ‘It’s me, not you’? Like I haven’t thrown that one around before. You’re ruining my self-esteem, here.”
I laugh. “I think your self-esteem is just fine, rockstar.”
“It was.” He turns and walks backwards, holding both of my hands. “Until I met you.”
“You’re sweet. But you’ve had twenty women throwing themselves at you. I think you’ll bounce back quickly.”
“Nineteen,” he corrects me. “But I’d really like to get the twentieth on board finally.”
“You’ve had nineteen other women chasing you. Why do you need number twenty?”
“Number twenty is all I need. The other nineteen aren’t for me, long-term.”
“I think your ego is just looking for a little stroking.”
“It’s not my ego that wants you to stroke it.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
The tide washes up, covering my feet. I splash a wall of water in Flynn’s direction, catching him by surprise. He splashes back and before I know it, we’re both drenched from head to toe. An hour later, we walk back into the house arm-in-arm—soaked, smiling and stirring a scandal we didn’t know was brewing.
chapter twelve
Cooper
Tatiana Laroix is the it girl of Hollywood. But she still needs an appointment to make it past Helen. Thank god. I thought by now she’d be chasing someone equally as enthralled with seeing himself up on the big screen. No such luck.
“She said she’s shooting the trailer edits in hangar three and needs to speak to you. She didn’t look happy at being turned away. Again.” Helen hands me a stack of messages. “James Cam is also in that pile, he said it’s urgent he speaks to you this morning. I’m guessing the two may be related.”
I groan. James Cam is the director of the movie Tatiana just wrapped for Montgomery Productions. The two didn’t agree on anything. I thought I was finally done with the petty disputes when we closed down production, but then the trailer needed reshoots, so we had to bring them back for a few days.
I call James back. Apparently Tatiana is refusing to shoot what he wants, claiming it isn’t the artistic vision she had in mind for the trailer. Actresses.
Two months ago, I made the mistake of taking Tatiana to a premiere. I knew by the end of the night it would be our only date. The way she spoke to people, her newfound fame had already gone to her head. At the after-party, her fingers crawled up my thigh under the table.
I ended the date early, by Hollywood standards anyway, and told her I needed to go home, get a good night’s sleep. But she didn’t take the hint. Instead, she tried to unbuckle my pants as I drove to her place.
There was no avoiding her at any of the film related parties when we finally completed production. She was always by my side, her hand wrapped possessively around my arm, even though the gesture wasn’t returned.
I told her I was busy the next few times she called. Then she showed up at my apartment unannounced. She was near tears, upset about a fight with a director, so I let her in. It was a line I shouldn’t have crossed. She was nicer when she wasn’t in public putting on a show, but still not for me. She dropped by my place once more, twice now at the office.
“Helen, I’m going down to hangar three, call me if I’m not back in a half hour to help me exit.”
She smiles. “Miles is next door in hangar two, shooting some promos. He asked if you could drop by. I’d told him you were packed for the day. But if you’re down there …”
The day just keeps getting better. I’ve avoided anything Throb related the last ten days. It still hasn’t gotten Kate out of my head, but at least I can focus on work a little better.
“Can we just talk about it here?” I try not to sound as impatient as I feel. “I have a packed day today, Tatiana.”
“You have to eat,” she purrs, placing the palms of both her hands against my chest. Yes, but I’d prefer to eat alone.
“It’s important and we”—she looks around the room at all of the waiting staff—“need to talk in private.”
The room full of waiting gaffs and production staff is probably costing me two thousand an hour. I look at my watch. “A quick bite, I need these guys back to work.”
She smiles victoriously. I open the door, allowing Tatiana to pass through first. I take four strides and walk directly into Kate.
And Dickhead.
We both freeze, staring at each other.
“Coop. I thought we were in a rush.” Tatiana quickly moves to my side. She gives Kate the once-over, then wraps her hands possessively around my bicep.
“Kate.” I nod, ignoring Tatiana.
“Cooper,” she says softly. “Ummm … this is Flynn.”
“How’s it going, man?” The longhaired dickhead is oblivious to my scowl.
“Cooper Montgomery.” I nod and squeeze his hand a little too tight when we shake.
Kate looks to Tatiana, who I completely forgot is standing next to me. “This is Tatiana Laroix,” I finally say.
The seconds that follow are awkward. Even more so when Dickhead slings his arm casually around Kate’s shoulder and says, “We were just going to grab a bite to eat.”
My eyes are glued to the arm touching her shoulder. It’s difficult to contain the urge to physically remove it for him. “Us too.” My jaw clenches. “Why don’t you join us?” Kate’s eyes go wide; Tatiana’s grip tightens a little more.
“Sure.” Dickhead shrugs, looking like he doesn’t have a goddamned care in the world.
Lunch turns out to be less uncomfortable than I would have thought. Dickhead tells Tatiana he’s a big fan and the two of them spend the next half hour talking about her favorite subject: Her.
“You should have thrown it the other way,” I say to Kate.
Her eyebrows draw together.
“Salt,” I clarify. “You tried to do it discreetly, but I saw you throw it over your left shoulder a minute ago.”
“Oh.” She pauses. “But why would I throw it the other way?”
“It’s to ward off the devil by throwing it in his eyes, right?”
She wrinkles her nose, still confused at what I’m insinuating.