Courting Trouble (Reality Romance Book 5) (7 page)

Adam frowned, reaching past her for plates. “I know he’s your father, but…”

“How could he miss the fact that I’m not chaste and pure?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, I’m not offended. I’ve asked myself the same thing for years. Silverware?” He pointed her toward the drawer and she began setting the breakfast bar with two places. “I’m twenty-six years old. I’ve been living on my own in LA since I was eighteen and I haven’t been a virgin since I was sixteen, but to my father there are two kinds of people—good people and sinners. He knew I was good, so his precious baby could not possibly be a sinner. Now that he knows I’m a sinner, he’s having a hard time adjusting. His world is very black and white. He’s never been particularly comfortable with grey—but I’ve known since I was fifteen that grey was where all the fun is.”

Adam had met more black and white thinkers when he was in the Secret Service than he’d expected. It had to be either yes or no. But the truth was so often more complicated.

She paused in the act of putting out wine glasses. “Or maybe between black and white is color. I think I like that metaphor better.”

Elena was certainly colorful. She was vibrant with it.

“He hasn’t spoken to me in months,” she said, the words carefully casual. Adam looked at her as he plated their dinner, but she was too good an actress. He couldn’t see any trace of her real feelings on her face. “My mother would never go against his wishes in any way, so I’ve been cut off from the entire family, lest I sully them with my sinful ways. I have younger siblings, you see. Wouldn’t want to corrupt them with my unholy influence.”

He carried the plates to the breakfast bar, setting them down and pouring the wine. “I have a younger sister too.”

“And how does she feel about having a hero for a brother?” She took a bite of the Madeira and closed her eyes, seeming to savor the taste with her entire body. “My God, that’s good. You’re wasted as a bodyguard.”

“I’m glad you like it.” It was almost sexual, watching her eat, knowing he’d given her that pleasure. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“
Like
is too mild a word.”

Taking a bite of his own dinner, he tried to remember what they’d been talking about before she had a food orgasm. Diana. Right. He sipped the wine, tasting none of it. “My sister doesn’t really care about the heroism stuff. She just wants to know when she can meet Sandy Newton.”

“How old is she?”

“Seventeen. Same age as Cassie.”

Elena nodded. “My brother is seventeen. My sisters are twenty and twenty-one.”

“And none of them have reached out to you?”

She shrugged. “Hard to think outside your own perspective at that age. Though somehow I bet you were thinking only of others and saving kittens from burning buildings when you were still in diapers.”

“I think you have a distorted idea of me.”

“Maybe.” She paused for a few more bites of the Madeira, chewing contemplatively. “I’ve never been in a burning building, but I bet I would have run. No way am I going back to carry anyone out.”

“You’re tiny.” She couldn’t be more than five two. “Who would you be able to carry?”

“Small children? But even then, they’re on their own.” She laughed. “Can you imagine me as a mother? ‘The house is going up in flames, kids! Save yourselves! It’s every toddler for himself!’”

“I’m sure you’ll be a great mother.” It was an automatic platitude and her snort said she knew it.

“The Slutty Suitorette? Hardly. Can you see me in the PTA?”

He could, actually. She wasn’t the kind of woman a man looked at and immediately envisioned with a baby on her lap, but he could see her taking no prisoners as a mom. Moving mountains for her kids. Confidently snarking her way into getting her way and driving the other PTA moms crazy. But somehow he didn’t think she’d appreciate hearing that. “Don’t read too much into your press clippings. God knows mine defy belief.”

“Yeah, but yours are
good
. It’s a little different. Women probably throw themselves at you whenever you go out in public, eager to have the babies of the most heroic man in America.”

His neck heated. “There’s plenty of time for that.” Right now he was just trying to find his feet again—and figure out how he was going to pay sixty thousand dollars of property tax every year.

“Not according to my parents. That’s one of the things they’re most pissed at me about. Daniel asked me on one of the episodes if I wanted kids and I told him they were kind of smelly and annoying. America loved that.
Slutty Suitorette hates children!
”

“You aren’t required to want children just because you’re female.”

“Try telling that to my parents. But the truth is I never really gave any thought to whether or not I would have kids. They aren’t a priority for me. I might want them someday. But not until I know who I am without them. My mother never figured that out. I want to be me first, before I’m half of a couple or somebody’s mother, but being me’s not going so well at the moment.”

He knew that feeling, better than he wanted to admit. The feeling that his life had gone off the tracks and he needed to find his center again. His sense of self—as cheesy and new wave as that sounded. He wanted to be him again. But how did he get back to that version of him that’d had everything in front of him—including a glowing career protecting the President—when his career was over and he was sliding into debt to pay for a house he didn’t feel like he deserved?

He lifted his glass, waiting until she raised hers as well and clinking them together. His words were as much a hope as a toast. “To being us again.”

“Here here.”

Chapter Ten

Elena was not cut out for hiding out.

Even in the world’s most beautiful house, she only lasted an hour before she started to go stir crazy. Adam had needed to go to work. He’d offered to drive her by her place to pick up her car, but she hadn’t wanted to make him late for his job—especially not when he was already bending over backwards to help her out.

So here she was. Trapped in the kind of house she’d always dreamed of, slowly going crazy.

She’d discovered when the sun rose that there was no beach in this part of Malibu. The house was built into a bluff, with the cantilevered deck thrust out directly over the water and the waves breaking beneath her feet. Each of the tightly packed houses on the bluff was angled to provide unobstructed views and the illusion of privacy, so Elena couldn’t even people-watch the rich folks in the neighboring houses. She wanted to enjoy the luxury, wanted to bask in how the other half lived, but she’d never been good at being idle. Elena had never known when to stop pushing.

Thank God for cell phones.

She called her agent first.

Dale Reese was a little slimy, but he’d landed her a commercial the first month she’d been with him and gotten her a slew of auditions for shows like
NCSI
and
Law & Order: SUV
—which had all turned her down, citing that she was “distractingly attractive”. But he’d gotten her seen at least, and he’d never once hit on her. That kind of thing went far in Elena’s book. It was vaguely comforting knowing that she had a morality-free shark on her side—a shark who was way more turned on by the idea of the money she could make him than he was by the idea of getting her into bed.

Marrying Mister Perfect
had been his idea. He’d coached her through the audition, since she’d never seen the show and didn’t know any of the favorite catch phrases. But he had her swearing she was
in it for the right reasons
and
ready for this incredible journey
until it became apparent they really wanted her as a villainess and then he coached her on how to be memorable. She wasn’t
in it to make friends
. The other girls were just
jealous of her connection
.

Then she’d drunk the kool-aid.

She hadn’t meant to fall for Daniel. She’d meant to be memorable. But she’d trusted him. She’d bought into the Mister Perfect hype. She’d thrown herself into her relationship with him, and now she was the Slutty Suitorette.

Dale loved the hashtag.
“No one will forget you now!”
he’d crowed.

But no one remembered her as Elena either. She would live forever as a punch line.

The auditions had dried up after the show aired. Apparently directors of crime dramas didn’t want their faceless victims to be more noticeable than the storylines.

“Elena!” Dale cooed warmly when his secretary finally put her call through. “How’s my little Suitorette?”

Broke and receiving death threats on my door. How do you think I am?
“Eager to get back to work. Are you sure you don’t have anything new for me? Maybe some indie movie that wants the free publicity of having me on set? I don’t care if I’m someone’s promo stunt, I just want a chance to show America I’m more than the Slutty Suitorette.”

“I know you do, hon, but you need to be patient.”

Tell that to my landlord.
“I need this, Dale. Send me to a cattle call. I’ll take anything.”

“The Playboy offer is still on the table. I know you’ve been resistant to doing it, but I don’t think it’s a bad idea. We have to think about your brand. You’re selling sex appeal. Which are you going to get more mileage out of? A Playboy feature that gets everyone’s attention or a grungy little indie film where you hide your trademark sexuality and the serious critics delight in mocking your attempt to show you’re a real actress?”

“Maybe they wouldn’t mock. It could be my come back, my redemption. Hollywood loves those stories.”

“They love them for drug addicted child stars. Everyone roots against reality TV stars.”

His cynicism sent her hackles up. “Maybe you should have thought of that before you sent me on the show.”

“Elena. Honey. I know this is a hard time for you, but you have to think long run. You’re gorgeous. Smoldering. You made those other Suitorettes look like frigid hags. America knows you now. You just need to give them time to cool off a bit and then hit them with your heat again.” He paused to let that sink in then added, “The director of that horror movie is still very interested in you.”

He was, but Elena had met him once and was reasonably certain he only wanted her in the Oscar worthy role of Topless Co-Ed Victim #2 so he could try to get her topless—and bottomless—in his trailer on set.

“Just think about it,” Dale said, with a finality that let her know the conversation was over as far as he was concerned.

“I want real roles, Dale,” she argued. “I’m an actress, not a pair of boobs.”

“You’re both,” he insisted. “Which is why you’re going to be a star. Just be patient. I’ll be in touch.”

He hung up and she flopped down onto the couch in Adam’s gorgeous sunken living room, gazing out over the sparkling ocean view that was just as breathtaking as she’d imagined it would be when she first saw the windows last night. Here she was in heaven and she couldn’t even be happy because she was an interloper. This wasn’t her paradise. She hadn’t earned it.

She could call a friend to take her to pick up her car—but where would she go once she had it? And who would she call? She wasn’t long on friends. Not real ones.

She’d lost touch with most of her friends from Albuquerque and all her LA friends were actors—which meant they were more competitors and step-on-you-to-get-ahead rivals than trusted confidantes. In her recent brush with infamy, most of her acquaintances had either distanced themselves, sold stories of her to the tabloids, or tried to manipulate her into being seen in public with them so they could get their faces on the tabloids themselves.

The only ones she felt like she could trust were the other Suitorettes. And most of them lived half a continent away.

She checked the clock before dialing Sam. Noon central time. Sam was probably at work, but she could leave a message—

“Elena?”

“Hey. I wasn’t sure I’d catch you.”

“I’m having lunch with Jase, but when I saw it was you I decided it was worth it to ignore him. What’s up?”

And suddenly Elena didn’t know what to say. Sam was in the love bubble in Michigan, busy planning her wedding with the man of her dreams. The last thing she needed was to be burdened by Elena’s bullshit. “Nothing urgent. I should let you get back to Jase. We can talk later.”

“Don’t worry about Jase. He’s using this opportunity to check his email when I can’t give him shit for being a compulsive workaholic. You’d think moving back to White Falls would have slowed down the work obsession, but apparently you can take the boy out of the eighty-hour-a-week job but you can’t take the eighty-hour-a-week job out of the boy. Anyway he’s happy that I’m not making him pay attention to me when his email is singing its siren song. How are you? You were awfully quiet at the wedding. I’m not used to you and quiet in the same zip code, let alone the same sentence.”

The wedding felt like a million years ago, rather than the few days it had been. She didn’t want to bother Sam with the truth, so she just said, “I’m good. I think the LA grind is getting to me lately is all.”

“Come to White Falls! Oh, E! You have to come. You’ll love it. Summer up here is so gorgeous and peaceful. Promise me you’ll come.”

“I’d love to,” she said automatically, hedging, “but I don’t know when I’ll be able to get away.”

“Whenever you like. You’re always welcome. I’ll make Jase clean his work crap out of the guest room.”

“Thank you. I may take you up on that,” Elena said, even as she realized she was lying. She didn’t have the money, and even if she had, she wouldn’t bring her drama to Sam’s doorstep.

Elena didn’t unload her problems on other people. No one needed to know about the handsy asshole from the wedding or the whore-on-the-door note.

Though there was a certain comfort in having Adam know. She wasn’t in the habit of sharing her troubles, but he’d slid into her life so naturally she hadn’t even realized he was past all her boundaries until now. It was strange, feeling like she knew him so well—and scarier still, that he knew her—after only a matter of days. There was unfamiliar intimacy there. The intimacy of a friend she truly trusted—as terrifying as that trust was.

She couldn’t imagine not trusting him. But God knew she’d made mistakes in the past. “Do you remember the security guys from the wedding? The clean-cut one with the brown hair? Adam Dylan? The guy we ran into in the hall?”

“Sure. He was cute.”

Elena heard Jase rumbling in the background, asking who was cute.

“Did you recognize him? Did you know who he was?”

“Adam Dylan? No, why? Is he famous?” More indistinct commentary from the other end of the line. “Hang on, Jase has heard of him. Some hero who saved kids from a burning building or something?”

“That’s him.”

“Okay, got it. Now why do I need to know who the hot bodyguard is?”

“I’m sort of staying at his place.”

Sam squealed. “You’re shacking up with all those muscles?” Jase complained on the other end—doubtless defending his own muscle-bound physique—and Sam shushed him. “Quiet, this is just getting good.” Then, to Elena, “When did this happen? How long have you known him?”

“We met at the wedding.”

“See? This is why I love you. You know what you want and you go after it.”

“Yeah, but the last thing I thought I wanted was Daniel, and look how that turned out.”

It wasn’t until the words were out that she realized she was voicing her deepest fear. That her insta-trust with Adam was as misplaced as her feelings for Daniel had been.

He wasn’t settled in this life. Just looking around his house she could see he hadn’t made it his home—like he already had one foot out the door, ready to bolt if the Secret Service called him back. A man whose life was in a temporary holding pattern was not a good gamble—no matter how hot he was.

“Hey. Just because Daniel turned out to be a dud doesn’t mean all men are lost causes. You’re wiser now. You learned from the Daniel experience.”

“That sounds like a ride at Epcot Center. The Daniel Experience.”

“Not a popular ride. You’d only ride it once before you learned it was a total waste of time, no matter how shiny it looks or how much hype surrounds it.”

“Do you ever feel like an idiot? Because we were sucked in by him?”

“I feel like an idiot because I was trying so hard to get over Jase I almost convinced myself I was in love with him, but he played his role well. He said all the right things.”

“And we believed them.” Elena didn’t even have the excuse that she’d wanted to fall in love. She’d just wanted to win and then she’d somehow convinced herself that he would be the prize that would make winning worthwhile.

“Don’t beat yourself up. You aren’t the first woman to be suckered by a man and sadly you won’t be the last. I’m just excited you’re seeing this new guy! Don’t let Daniel make you gun shy about throwing yourself into it. You’re
Elena
. You aren’t you if you’re being cautious and taking it slow.”

She’d always loved that side of her too—the impulsive, wild side. She
missed
Old Elena, but she was so damn scared of letting it out again after the way the last few months had bitch-slapped her for her previous indiscretions. And letting it out with Adam, who had said he just wanted to be friends… out of the question.

No. Cautious and slow was the way to go. Even if the wrongness of it wrapped around her, smothering her. She’d always been the girl who was begging forgiveness rather than asking permission—when she bothered with forgiveness at all—and she’d liked it that way, but she’d learned her lesson. She would restrain herself. And the vindication of her eventual come back would be worth it.

It had to be.