Captivated by You (2 page)

Their bond had never gone further than friendship for various reasons. And yet … being in her company for a mere three minutes already had him wanting to touch her. Kiss her. He wanted to bury himself in her.

He cleared his throat and looked at the door, his heart pounding in his ears. Where was all of this desire coming from? Sure, it had been a while since he’d gotten laid, but this was different. With Lacey, it felt more like a need. A need to hold her close and kiss her until she couldn’t remember anything except his name. If he stayed here, he might not be able to keep his hands to himself. No. He should make a phone call and charter a plane immediately, before he did something he would regret. “Maybe I should go.”

She raised a brow. “You’re welcome to spend the night. I don’t think anyone will come to tow you out until the snow stops. Morning at the very earliest.”

“Yeah, but …” He gestured at the stairs. “You’re alone. I don’t think your parents would like me staying here without their permission.”

She choked on a laugh. “You’re kidding, right? You do realize I’m not seventeen anymore? I think it’s okay if an old friend of the family stays the night.”

If she knew that the
family friend
she spoke of wanted nothing more than to carry her upstairs and explore every inch of her naked body … she might not feel that way. His cheeks heated, and he ducked his head. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Then come in. Take off your shoes. Go sit by the fire.” Her voice grew more distant, and he lifted his head to find her. She strode toward the kitchen, her hips swaying with a grace and seduction he had a feeling she didn’t even try to achieve. “I was about to open up a bottle of champagne, so I’ll grab another glass for you.”

He forced his eyes away from her ass and turned to look out the window. The snow fell in rapid succession, showing no signs of easing up anytime soon. He couldn’t drive away from here, and there was no other house within walking distance. Looked like his options were to stay inside with her—or brave the ice and snow outside for the next twelve hours wearing his Gucci shoes and a lightweight jacket that did more for his style than his personal comfort.

Eyeing the crackling fire in the living room, he kicked off his shoes, walked into the living room, and sank onto the couch. He knew what he had to do. What he should do. But instead, he decided to break a few rules, have a little fun. After all, he hadn’t seen Lacey in eight long years, and he wasn’t ready to leave just yet.

He would stay, but he’d keep his damn hands to himself no matter how tempted he was to see if her lips tasted as good as he’d always imagined they would. He had no right barging into her life and taking advantage of her, only to disappear in the morning. He’d spend an hour or two with her then crash on the couch until morning.

Alone.

Chapter Two

Lacey grabbed a champagne flute with shaking fingers. So the boy she secretly wanted throughout high school, the very same boy she’d compared every single one of her boyfriends to ever since, sat in her parents’ living room. That same boy had turned into a famous, hot, successful, sexy man she regularly drooled over on the big screen. He would be spending the night with her, so close she could touch him if she so wished.

And he was oh, so touchable.

Okay, she needed to stop it right there. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Just because he was stranded and without any other options for shelter didn’t mean he was
interested
in her in any way, shape, or form. It didn’t mean he wanted her fawning all over him, like every other woman in the world.

He was rich and famous—and she was still the small town girl who used to tutor him in math. Time hadn’t changed her too much. Lacey taught elementary school, like she always knew she would. If only she could hold onto a relationship the way she held onto her dreams of teaching.

She eyed the kitchen table, leaning back against the counter for support. They used to sit there for hours, while she would do her best to help him understand calculus. In between math equations and complex problems, they talked about their futures and their dreams. She’d wanted to be a teacher, and he’d aspired to be an actor. She hadn’t had a doubt he would succeed in his goals back then … and he hadn’t.

Fine. She could do this. She would play it cool, and make it a point not to fawn all over him, or beg for his attention. The key was to remain cool, calm, and collected. Raising her chin, she headed back into the living room. She would act as if nothing changed between them. He was still the boy she used to tutor, and she was still the girl he used to cheat off when he forgot all the stuff she taught him. For tonight, she would forget he was now an A-list star sitting on the couch, waiting for her. No, tonight he would be Mark, high school football captain. Not Mark Delaney—mega superstar.

When she entered the living room, she found him kicked back on the couch, one ankle crossed over his knee. Upon hearing her approach, he turned and smiled at her. Oh, God. The smile that melted the hearts of women all across the world was directed at her. “I’m happy to see that Tinkerbell is still alive and kicking.”

Lacey looked at the small mutt lying in front of the fireplace, snoring away in doggie-land. “Yeah. My parents worried she might be too old to be boarded. Do you have any pets in Cali?”

“Do a publicist and agent count?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Only if you have to feed them and take them for walks.”

“Then the answer is no.” He scratched his head. “Not even a goldfish. But I’m not home enough for anything to rely on me for food and water.”

She sat down next to him, keeping a respectable distance between them, and reached for the bottle. He beat her to it. She watched him pour them both a glass, his hands steady and sure, and tucked her own trembling fingers in between her knees, squeezing them hard.

Her body thrummed to life around him—just as it had in high school. Though it had been years since she saw him, her attraction to him was stronger than ever. Of course, she’d had the benefit of watching him in movies over the years, whereas he did not seem to care what she’d been up to.

She’d gone to college, gotten a job in the same elementary school they had attended, then gotten engaged. The disaster of an engagement resulted in heartbreak a few months ago. End of her boring life story. She swore off men after that, and wasn’t about to give in to her desire to throw herself at him for a night of fun.

Was she? No. She wouldn’t.

Needing to do something besides stare at his ridiculously long eyelashes—seriously, what man needed eyelashes so thick and dark?—she stood and headed for the TV. Bending over, she shuffled through the selection of movies in search of
National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation
. “Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.” He stood up and handed her a glass. “I’m thinking a holiday classic is in order.”

She extracted a hand, begging it silently not to shake, and then turned her focus back to the DVDs. The full force of his green eyes on her was almost enough to turn her into a bumbling idiot. He’d always had that effect on her, and she hated it. She was an adult, damn it. Not some lovesick teenage girl. “I watch the same movie every Christmas with my family. This is the first year I’ll be watching it without them.”

“
National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation
? It’s right there, on the left.”

A breath caught in her throat, attempting to cut off her supply of oxygen. He remembered her favorite movie? When had she told him about her Christmas tradition? It had to have been at least ten years ago. She picked up the movie and looked at him, hugging the disk to her chest. “How do you remember my favorite Christmas movie?”

“Why wouldn’t I remember it?”

“I don’t know.”

His eyes met hers, sending a wave of heat through her. She had the urge to grab him by the shoulders and smash her lips on his just for the hell of it. How many actresses had gotten paid to do that? But Lacey didn’t need money. She just wanted
him
.

No, she couldn’t do that. She’d been through enough disastrous relationships, and had no desire to go back there with a man whose job consisted of kissing gorgeous women on a daily basis. No, thank you.

He took a sip of his drink then raised the glass to her. “I remember pretty much everything you ever told me. I’ve got a good memory.”

“Oh.” She looked away from him, needing to separate herself from his intoxicating stare. “Yeah, that makes sense. Actors have to remember all of their lines, and the actions to go with their lines. An eye roll here. A dramatic gasp there.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much all there is to my life anymore.”

“If your career is based off you memorizing things, why didn’t the math I tried to teach you ever stick in that photographic memory of yours?”

He pried the movie out of her fingers and popped it open before sliding the DVD into the player. “Because I was too busy staring at you to pay attention, more than likely.”

She blinked at him, fighting the long forgotten yet somehow familiar urge to smile back at him and flirt. They’d always flirted and teased each other as kids, and he was acting as if nothing changed in that quarter. Well, duh. His job required him to be a charming, handsome man that women would fall in love with over and over again in movies. Of
course
he would continue the front in her living room. Of course he would pretend that he actually liked her—or even thought she was pretty. If she wanted to go and read more into his words than the role he played in life, then she was a fool.

She took a sip of champagne before answering, needing a few seconds to compose her answer. This easy banter might come easily to him, but for her it had been a long time. Ever since Joe broke her heart and left her alone, she hadn’t exactly been big on flirting and laughing with men. And tonight didn’t feel like an exception. Instead of coming up with a teasing reply, she simply said what was on her mind. “I doubt that.”

He flushed and dragged a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch after I left. I got your emails, but didn’t have time to write back.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize to me. It’s not a big deal. I mean, it’s not like we were dating or something.”

“I know.” He looked down at the TV, his jaw tense. “Still, I’m sorry.”

She swallowed another sip of her drink, struggling to get past her throbbing throat. When he’d left, she’d checked her email several times a day for a few months, eagerly waiting to hear from him. He’d promised to write her every day, so she could live vicariously through his exciting life. Every day she woke up, expecting for the first email to hit her inbox.

When no such letter came, she had realized all those nights spent studying together on her parents’ couch had meant something entirely different to him than it had to her. To her, it had been the highlight of her weekends. To him, it had probably been nothing more than a way to graduate and leave the small town he hated so much. To hear he regretted not keeping in touch both warmed her heart and saddened her.

“I kept up on you,” she said, giving him a small smile. “Eve told me all about your auditions, and after you made it big, I couldn’t have avoided seeing your face even if I wanted to.”

He grabbed the champagne and refilled her cup, then his. “Yeah. I guess there’s that. So, I hear you’re a teacher now?”

“Yeah.” She took a shaky breath. “Second grade.”

“That’s how old you were the first time I met you.”

She shot him another look. For someone as successful as he was in life, he remembered an awful lot of details about her. Last year, she’d seen a story about him being invited to the White House to dine with the President—but he remembered all these little things about her? Did she dare hope it meant he had thought of her once or twice over the years? Probably not. More than likely, Eve had mentioned it in passing. She’d have to thank her later for reminding Mark that she still existed, since he’d obviously forgotten.

“Yep,” she mumbled into her glass, taking another sip. “I think I was.”

He picked up the remote and started the movie, settling back on the couch. “So, you like it?”

She blinked at him and sat down beside him. “Like what?”

“Teaching.” His lips twitched. “Is this your second bottle? Are you drunk already, Lacey?”

“Uh.” She eyed the kitchen, where an empty bottle sat. “Maybe a little.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “I knew it. You could never hold your liquor well.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not seventeen anymore. I assure you I’m now capable of drinking more than a glass of wine before I’m puking on your shoes.”

“I took them off just in case.” He wiggled his toes. “See? Safe and sound.”

She punched his arm, her cheeks heating up. The last time she’d seen him, on the night of his graduation, she’d snuck into his backyard with a bottle of pilfered wine. She and Mark had sat on his porch and drank all night long. Until sunrise. Knowing he would be gone soon, she’d not so brightly decided to make a move on him.

He was leaving in the morning, so if he laughed in her face, at least she wouldn’t have to see him again. She’d been moving in for a kiss, drunk enough to feel both bold and confident that she looked sexy in his eyes, but she’d ruined the effect by puking her guts up on his Nike’s. And for a second, as she moved closer to him, she’d sworn that she had seen desire cross his eyes before she lost all control of her stomach.

She looked down at his feet, covered in expensive looking socks that probably cost more than her whole outfit combined—including the shoes she no longer wore. “You’ll never let me live that night down, will you?”

“I don’t know. It was a pretty awesome night.” He nudged her with his elbow. “I think about it sometimes when I’m playing a part where I have to laugh. It helps inspire me to actually look amused.”

She put down her glass and dropped her head in her hands. “Oh, God. I’ll never be able to watch one of your movies and not think about you mocking me now.”