Throb (27 page)

The afternoon session is even more painful than the morning. Miles spends the entire time coaching us on “how to seduce the camera.” Halfway through, Flynn and I decided we should start a little drinking game—where every time Miles says the word “intimate,” we’d drink. I stopped counting at sixteen, figuring I’d have alcohol poisoning by then anyway.

Toward the end of the day, Miles announces we will be having one more group date before we leave for Barbados the day after tomorrow. We’re all going to the Film Critics Awards Banquet. Flynn and the four contestants are going to announce the nominees and winner for best supporting actor.

Flynn and I are the last ones to leave. Outside, the parking lot is nearly empty, and he insists on waiting with me for Sadie, who, of course, is late picking me up. We kill the time laughing as he entertains me by singing a rhyme he made up to mock Miles’s coaching advice.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you for making a waste-of-time day totally bearable,” I say to Flynn as Sadie finally pulls up.

“No problem. Anytime I can put a smile on that beautiful face isn’t a waste of time for me.” Flynn leans down to kiss my lips and it takes me a minute to realize what’s about to happen.
Shit. We haven’t even been put in a private romantic situation yet.
I panic, feeling silly for doing so when the kiss feels almost innocent, but I turn my head just in time as Flynn’s lips come down to find mine. Flynn catches the corner of my mouth. I, on the other hand, turn my head and catch the glare of Cooper Montgomery.

I’m sorry.
I shot off a text as soon as I buckled into Sadie’s car. I wasn’t surprised Cooper didn’t respond right away. But it’s hours later now and he’s still silent. I visualize the moment over and over in my head. The almost-kiss on the lips, turning my head to find Cooper standing right there—eyes tempered with hurt. His curt nod and rapid departure leave me feeling unsettled.

Anxiously, I check my phone every five minutes until the minutes turn into hours and it becomes painfully obvious I won’t be getting a response. I attempt to clear my head with a rare trip to the gym, followed by two glasses of wine. But all it does is blur my thoughts and leave me wondering if everything I was so sure would work out when we were in Barbados was even real.

Maybe if there would have been a scene I’d be able to sleep, but the unknown is killing me. I stare at the television, waiting for something to take my mind off what his lack of response means. It doesn’t work. Around one in the morning, my lack of self-control wins out and I shoot off another text.
Can’t sleep. The bed is empty without you next to me.

My phone rings ten seconds later.

“Hey,” I answer, uncertain as to what to expect.

“It’s intolerable,” he says with a breath of frustration.

“Sleeping alone?”

“Seeing him touch you.”

A few seconds of silence pass as I internally debate how to respond.

“I’m sorry.”

“You looked happy.”

There’s an ache in my chest. “I am happy.
You
make me happy.”

“Then
I
should be the one on the receiving end of your smile.”

“You are.”

“I wasn’t this afternoon.”

There’s no way to get through this conversation without a few bumps and bruises. “He’s a nice guy. I like him … as a friend. Even if we weren’t in this situation, I have guy friends—ones I’d occasionally share a smile with.”

“Maybe. But I’d be able to wrap my arm around your waist and pull you close to me when I’m near you and see you sharing that smile with another man. I wouldn’t have to walk away like you didn’t belong to me.”

“I’m sorry.” And we’re back to where we started. I have no idea how to make him feel better. “I really only think of him as a friend.”

“That’s not how he thinks of you.”

How do I argue with what I suspect to be the truth? “I’m sorry.” I’m starting to sound like a broken record.

“I can’t wait until this is over.”

“Soon.”

“There’ll be no mistaking who you belong to when this charade is over,” he says with an edge to his voice that wakens my libido.

“I look forward to it,” I say while sporting the first smile I’ve felt since this afternoon.

“Stay with me tomorrow night. I’ll be at a work event until late. But I want you in my bed when I get home.”

“Okay. But Miles added another event shoot to the schedule and we’re going to some awards ceremony tomorrow night. So I might be late.”

“What awards ceremony?”

“The Film Critics Awards Banquet.”

“Great. More watching Dickhead paw you and not being able to do anything about it.”

“You promised not to watch the dailies anymore.”

“I won’t have to watch the dailies. Miles’s table is next to mine.”

Miles catches my eyes as they linger on the empty seat at the next table for what must be the tenth time in the last hour. He forces a smile and I watch his eyes dart to the table I’m fixated on and back to me. No doubt he thinks I’m star struck looking at Tatiana Laroix or Benjamin Parker. I’m pretty sure the whole place is staring at one of the two of them.

There’s no denying that Tatiana Laroix is a beautiful woman. But tonight she’s beyond stunning—men and women both can’t stop staring. Her hair is done in that Roaring Twenties-era finger wave that is feminine and dramatic, yet somehow still appears slightly understated. The exact opposite of her dress. The daring cleavage-baring nude gown is cut to her navel, leaving the men in the room fixated on the effectiveness of double-sided tape. Knowing the empty seat is where Cooper will eventually sit, I find myself jealous even though he hasn’t stepped foot in the room yet.

Benjamin Parker costarred along side Tatiana in
Perfect Sense,
the upcoming film produced by Montgomery Productions. He’s young, handsome and has a penchant for jogging all over LA shirtless. The media eats up his every step. I’ve stolen glances at the interaction between the two, secretly wishing I’d find sexual tension. But all I’ve caught is Tatiana scanning the door and watching her watch.

I don’t need to turn around to know the moment Cooper walks into the room. I’d like to say it’s because I feel it in my heart, in my bones, a whisper touch alerting my skin to his arrival. But that’s not why at all. It’s the way Tatiana changes—her face lights up, eyes sparkle with devilish lust and the thrust of her already obvious overflowing breasts strain forward to show off even more. He’s not even near her yet and I’m spoon-fed a taste of the medicine Cooper was forced to swallow yesterday. Tonight is going to suck.

Cooper makes his rounds at the table, eventually coming to the only empty seat, next to Tatiana, just as the lights begin to flash, signaling the show is about to start. He never looks my way.

Twenty minutes later the cast from the show is ushered backstage to prepare for announcing the category we’re assigned. After seeing the size of the room and all of the famous faces, my nerves kick in on high. I’m grateful they picked Jessica and Flynn for the scripted banter and all I need to do is stand there and not pass out. Although right now I’m feeling even that may be a challenge.

“You okay?” Flynn sees my face and his turns concerned.

“I’m a little nervous. Can you tell?”

“Not really.” He grins, letting me know he’s lying.

I take a deep breath. “How do you do this all the time? Get up in front of a crowd and sing?”

He shrugs. “You get used to it.”

“Were you nervous when you first started?”

“Yep.” He smiles like he’s thinking back to a fond memory.

“What did you do to calm yourself?”

“Got shitfaced.”

“How’d that go?”

“I fell off the stage and had to get seven stitches in my head.”

“Think I’ll try some deep cleansing breaths instead.” I smile. “I just hope I don’t trip.”

The host announces our names over the loudspeaker, and a frantic woman with not one, but two headsets on barks orders into a walkie-talkie and shouts stage directions at us, and then we’re on. In the moment, I’m thankful that Flynn grabs my hand and walks me on stage, because my legs are wobbly with fear.

Jessica and Flynn ham it up for the cameras and, luckily, our five minutes of fame is over in less than three.

“You did great.”

“I stood there.”

“You didn’t fall.”

“Because you held my hand.”

“You’re cute when you’re nervous.” Flynn kisses my nose and flashes his dimples. Twenty minutes later we’re escorted back to our seats during an intermission.

People are up and mingling, Cooper is talking to the director right behind my seat.

“Hey,” Flynn says with a friendly smile and extends his hand toward Cooper. “Flynn Beckham. We met at the …”

“I remember.” Cooper dismisses him and turns to me.

“Kate.” He nods and tosses back the contents of his short glass in one large gulp.

“Cooper.” I follow his lead, mimicking his distant greeting.

Tatiana slinks up beside Cooper and hooks her arms through his. “Hey, lovebirds. How’s the show going?”

Flynn casually wraps his arm around my waist and smiles. “Can’t tell you any secrets.” He looks at me, then back to Tatiana and winks. “But it’s going great.”

If eyes could shoot daggers, poor Flynn would look like Swiss cheese. Cooper’s piercing glare complements the angry flex in jaw.

“I need another drink, Cooper,” Tatiana whines with a faux pout.

“Maybe you should slow down,” he responds without looking at her.

“Another drink might lower my inhibitions,” she says in a voice aimed at being seductive. To my ears it’s like nails scraping on a blackboard.

“You should take it easy,” he warns.

“But I thought you liked it hard.”

“Excuse me, Flynn. I need to use the ladies’ room.” I storm off without looking at Cooper or waiting for a response.

“Not so fast,” Cooper warns in a low raspy voice as he grabs my elbow, steering me in the opposite direction of the bathroom.

“Don’t, Cooper,” I shoot back. But I should know better than to bother to protest. He’s not a man easily deterred.

“Leave.” He approaches a uniformed young man standing at the coat closet. The man’s brows knit, but he quickly catches on when Cooper reaches into his pocket, pulls out a wad of cash, and stuffs half of it into the man’s hand. “Fifteen minutes. I don’t care if the place is on fire. The door doesn’t open.”

The man nods.

Cooper locks the door behind us.

“This isn’t a good idea, Cooper.” I finally look up and take the whole man in. Tension radiates off of him.

“There’s nobody but you, Kate.” He takes a step closer. His eyes watch me, study me, pin me in place. “Whatever happened with her was in the past. Everything is in my past now. Can you say the same?”

“I’m sorry.” My words trail off. “It’s just hard … watching her try to seduce you.”

“How do you think I feel? He held your hand on stage. I couldn’t even watch. It fucking kills me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We can end this right now. My offer is still good. In fact, nothing would make me happier than to take care of your family and leave with you right now.”

“I can’t, Cooper. I just can’t. I wish it was that easy.”

“You make it harder than it needs to be.”

“I need to take care of my own family. It’s a lot of money and it’s
my
responsibility.”

“I don’t care about the money. I need to take care of
you.
”

My eyes close. It would be so much easier to give in. Not worry about the house, Kyle’s therapy, leading Flynn on. “I’m sorry.” I hold back the tears, but my voice cracks.

Cooper’s hands reach up and cup my face, his thumb runs along my bottom lip. “I want to be the one holding your hand in public. I want to be the one to wrap my arm around your waist when another man comes near.” His lips brush against mine.

“We shouldn’t …” I weakly attempt to protest. Undone by the possessive rawness of his strained words, I stop trying to push him away and join him, chasing something we both need in the moment more than the air that we breathe.