Now a Major Motion Picture (36 page)

He heaved a sigh, giving up on the idea of sleep.

He flipped on the TV built into the wall-sized entertainment unit and scrolled through the limited channel lineup. Once. Twice.
Nothing on. Go figure.
He dropped the remote and reached for his laptop, reasoning with himself that there was nothing else to do, so he might as well see what Amelia was up to. As his fingers connected with the strap on his computer bag, though, something on the TV screen caught his eye. He froze for half a second and then scrambled for the remote, fumbling with the buttons to turn the volume up.

Apparently he didn’t need to get online to get his Amelia fix, because there she was on the forty-two inch plasma screen right in front of him. It was one of those late-night, tabloid-style entertainment news shows. Shows he hadn’t even known—or cared—existed until a few months earlier.

His jaw went slack as he realized what he was seeing: a teaser for an upcoming segment about a new Colinmel sighting.

That day.

In Los Angeles.

He suffered through two commercial breaks before the show’s host finally launched into the story—the main one of the night. The clip he’d glimpsed came on again. It was a close-up of Amelia and Colin holding hands and walking along a sidewalk in downtown Hollywood—one he’d walked on himself two hours ago! Amelia laughed self-consciously as Colin tugged on her hand, and the two of them ducked into a shop and out of the line of paparazzi fire. Noah listened in disbelief as the host speculated about whether Amelia would show up on Colin’s arm at some awards show taking place here in L.A. the next night.

Amelia’s here.
He felt numb, unable to process the news.

He glanced toward the door of his suite, knowing as he did that proximity didn’t matter.

She was so close, but still a million miles away.

Deal Maker

Amelia, late April

Amelia rubbed the back of her hand across her tired eyes.

She’d been going, going, going for weeks now with barely more than a few days’ break. The force of her exhaustion was like a physical weight that pulled her down…onto yet another sofa in yet another hotel suite in yet another city.

Reluctantly, she dragged herself off the latest version—a plush, caramel velvet number that her body had sunk into the second the door of her suite clicked shut behind her. She slipped her dress over her head and dropped it onto a corner of the king-size bed on her way to the bathroom.

After stepping into the shower and closing the heavy glass door, she closed her eyes and breathed in the steamy air, willing the water flowing over her to wash her mind clear of the million images twisting around inside it. When her head started to swim, she opened her eyes—exhausted as she was, she thought she might collapse right there on the travertine tile. She imagined Colin, the only other person with a key to her room, walking in and finding her there, curled up in a heap on the shower floor, water running, fast asleep.

Oh, Colin.
He was one of the reasons, the main reason, her brain was moving a thousand miles per hour—it was the question he’d asked at dinner tonight. He’d saved it for dessert, leaving her to mull it over as they left the restaurant and headed for their respective suites. Amelia pondered his words as she took her time shampooing her hair, shaving her legs.

He’d be calling any minute, she knew. Coming down, too, probably.

What the hell am I going to tell him?

She turned off the water and reached for the towels, which were folded onto a column of wall-mounted, stainless steel shelves—a cool counterpoint to the sea of warm, beige marble. After drying herself off, she slathered on lotion from the tray of Aveda products on the counter and slipped into one of two terry robes that hung in a narrow nook opposite the towels.

Back in the warm, lamp-lit suite, she flopped onto the massive bed, which had an upholstered headboard with sculpted edges that were perforated with a sleek row of nailhead trim. It was lined with stacks of downy, white pillows, and she scooted her body back and sank into them.

She shut her eyes, but opened them again quickly, fearing if she let them stay closed for even a minute she’d wake up in this same spot, lights on, towel and robe still clinging to her, the next morning.

Her phone started to buzz then, wiping out that possibility.

Amelia glanced around to see where she’d left it and groaned when she realized it was on one of the side tables near the sofa, all the way across the room. By the time she dragged herself over to it, the ringing had stopped. She glanced at the screen, knowing it was Colin before she saw the name.

Before she could return the call, his text appeared onscreen.

“U OK?”

She texted him back. “Sure. Just tired.”

She waited a prolonged moment for the next text. “Want me to stay up here?”

She closed her eyes, sighed. What was she so afraid of?

“No,” she texted back. “Come on down.”

Oh, Colin, your timing sucks
, she thought with a halfhearted smile. What was he thinking? This week had been nuts. How was she supposed to process his question, let alone answer it, with all that was going on?

She was smack dab in the middle of her first press junket. The movie based on book one of her series was careening toward release, and nothing she’d been through so far had prepared her for this experience.

The junket was a one-stop shop for the media that was taking place over three days at the legendary Beverly Wilshire. Although Colin and Nina had both told her what to expect, until she’d seen it for herself Amelia couldn’t comprehend the frenzied atmosphere and utter exhaustion of hours and days of back-to-back interviews. Roundtables, one-on-ones—she’d responded to the same questions so many times now she barely had a voice left. She couldn’t believe people still wanted to hear what she had to say.

But then again, she knew why they did.

Trapped as she was in room after room of entertainment reporters, most of the questions centered not on the movie or her books, but on her relationship with Colin. With her PR background she knew how to stick to her talking points—but there was no way she could get out of the personal questions, not this time. She felt like a media punching bag.

Still, she was trying to roll with it, keep things in perspective.

The reason I’m even here in the first place is because the books are successful.
When she thought of it that way the feeling was incredible…surreal and weird and humbling, and she didn’t want to take it for granted. The junket capped weeks of cross-country travel promoting the premiere. She’d given interview after interview, appeared at countless events and signed hundreds—maybe thousands—more books in the past few weeks. She’d never been tugged in so many directions at once.

A big upside to all of it was the time she was getting to spend with Colin. Their shared responsibility to promote the movie meant they were finally in the same city at the same time. She’d only seen him once since the week she’d spent in L.A. in January—he’d managed to carve two weeks out of his schedule to visit her again in Memphis. This time, they didn’t hide out and she did take him to her favorite restaurant and the bookstore that had sold her first book. They’d even gone to Graceland. Instead of staying at her house and risking another media encampment on the sidewalk, they’d booked a hotel.

That had happened in February, which meant that until their promotion schedules brought them together the week before last, she hadn’t seen him in more than two months. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but she’d been mired in edits, and he’d been in Germany squeezing in scenes for another movie before his TV series started filming again—now that
Shattered
had wrapped, movie offers were pouring in for him.

Not knowing how long they’d get to be face to face, they were spending almost all of their downtime together. At the end of every day when their itineraries were completed and their managers/agents/publicists finally willing to turn them loose, they shut out the madness and focused on each other. Even though they each had a suite and even though Colin’s, on the floor above hers, was decidedly more lavish, he’d spent every night of the junket in Amelia’s suite. Luckily they hadn’t been harassed by scheming photographers itching to get shots of them together, probably thanks to the hotel’s tight security for the VIP guests on its upper floors. They were only staying at the hotel in the first place to be near the center of action. It was easier than dealing with the hassle of getting
out
of the hotel each night to go to Colin’s house. It also avoided more “Love Nest” headlines.

Not that that mattered, since Colin wanted to make the love nest rumors official. Tonight he’d asked her to move in with him.

Amelia closed her eyes, picturing his face as he’d asked her over dinner.

“Just think about it,” he’d said. “We could see each other all the time. That’s three-fourths of our problem, living all the way across the country from each other. We’re not
that
busy.”

Amelia had rolled her eyes, and he’d laughed. “Well, all right, you have me there. We are that busy. But we’d still see each other more if we lived in the same house.”

She’d nodded noncommittally. Of course he was right—they’d see more of each other if she moved. But she didn’t
want
to move. She loved Memphis. Reese was in Memphis. Her friends were in Memphis. Her house was in Memphis.

She tried to picture herself living in that monstrous structure Colin called a house. She couldn’t see it, not even a little bit. How could she convey that to Colin without hurting his feelings?

Even if she could, the house wasn’t the real issue. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to take that step with Colin, to make that kind of commitment—or, for that matter, to do things in that order. She’d always been a traditional girl, and so she’d always imagined an engagement, a wedding, a house, and then kids. But to admit that in this day and age and in
Hollywood
, for Pete’s sake, was preposterous, not to mention embarrassing.
You can take the girl out of the Midwest, but you can’t…

Amelia shook her head as she pondered her dilemma. How could she explain any of this to Colin, especially without making it seem like she was pushing for a ring? She wasn’t ready for that, either.

He’s on his way down. He’s on his way, and I have no idea what to tell him when he gets here. Oh, please don’t bring it up again, please don’t bring it up again, please don’t bring it up again…

She needed time to think. Surely he’d realize that and let it be for now. She was still standing next to the sofa, staring at her phone, and chanting in her head when she heard Colin’s keycard dip into the slot. He closed the door softly, walked straight over to her, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Mmm. You smell delicious,” he said, his lips at her neck.

There he went, distracting her again. She’d pulled the towel from her hair, but she hadn’t changed from the hotel robe into pajamas. That fact only increased their distraction.

Her robe was on the floor mingled with various pieces of his clothing before they’d even crossed the room. The thought of who lived where didn’t cross Amelia’s mind for quite a while.

* * *

It was late when Colin pulled away and leaned back into the mound of pillows, gazing down at her with a hard-to-read expression. Amelia opened her eyes and stared at him for several seconds before snuggling back into his side. She stretched up to kiss him under his chin, bracing herself for what she could sense was coming.

“Have you thought any more about what we talked about?”

She squeezed her eyes shut again against his chest, where he couldn’t see. “I’ve thought about it,” she said in a small voice.

He was quiet for a long moment. “That doesn’t sound like a yes.”

“I just need some time,” she mumbled into his chest hair. “It’s a big decision.”

She could feel him nodding. “Yeah, it is. I’ll give you that.” He bent his head and kissed the top of hers, and then continued in an earnest voice, “But it’s a win-win, you know? In L.A., you’ll be close to everything. Close to the studio, close to Chloe.” She nodded at the reference to Chloe Johns, the screenwriter who was adapting her second book. “The way this thing’s playing out, you know there’ll be more movies. You’re going to be wrapped up in this,” he said, gesturing around the room, “for years, probably.”

He slid down into the covers so they were face to face. “And if you move to L.A., then I’ll…” His lips grazed her eyelids. “Be close…” They traveled to her nose. “To you.” He pressed his mouth to hers, and for a minute there she lost her focus on the conversation. She pushed away from him.

“Not fair. That’s total coercion.”

A sexy smile played across his lips as he reached to pull her back. “I know.”

She giggled as he ducked his head under the sheet, then gasped as his lips made a slow trail down her stomach. She relaxed against him, her thoughts muddled again. Too soon, he pulled away, emerging from the covers to look her in the eye.

“I’m not above playing dirty if I have to.”

“No kidding.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing him to stop talking. She’d already heard his arguments—he’d made them clear at dinner. The most obvious one was that it was frustrating as hell trying to mesh their schedules, and seeing each other once every couple of months wasn’t cutting it for either of them. If they lived under the same roof, they’d be together a lot more often, maybe even more than they were apart.

Right now together didn’t sound so bad.

He didn’t make another move toward her though, and when she opened her eyes she found him watching her. He wasn’t going to let her out of this. She sighed and propped herself up on one elbow.

“What about Reese? My friends?”

“You can fly back any time you want. I’ll buy a plane.”