Untangling The Stars (10 page)

She didn’t know how to respond. Nothing she would say was going to come out right.

“Okay. Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

“You don’t sound so sure.” That head cock again.

“No. I mean—yes—yes, I’m sure. I just, I don’t know, I expected to go out.”

Guy’s eyes darted to the open glass door of the balcony—the one she’d stumbled through—and back to her. “I just think it’s safer if we stay in, you know. We can get to know each other better—talk, ask questions, that kind of thing. Without having to worry about anything else.”

You have got to be kidding me.
He was trying to save himself the embarrassment of her making a fool out of herself (again) in public, and pass it off as “getting to know” each other. Ordering in was his way of staying a gentleman while subtly letting her off the hook. The fact that she’d stupidly tried to kiss him—after she’d basically run away from him then tried to fling herself off the balcony like some bipolar Rapunzel—made it all even worse. It was a miracle he hadn’t just asked her to leave, but that probably was against some kind of code or something. Bad for publicity. She felt insulted. Well, if he wouldn’t have been coming at her like some kind of hungry animal, she could have stood her ground. She
would
have stood her ground. It wasn’t like she wanted to fling herself over the balcony or anything.

“You’re afraid to be seen out in public with me.” It was flat—a statement, not a question.
Afraid
was applied loosely; “don’t want to take the chance” was more like it.

“Of course I’m not.” His eyebrows knit together. At least he was gracious enough to put those acting skills into use to pretend to be confused. How nice of him.

“It’s fine. I don’t want to waste your time.” She didn’t need a mercy date for perfect Mr. Guy Wilder, thankyouverymuch. He was the one who’d asked her out in the first place, and what a horrible idea that had been. Whatever sparks they had between them weren’t the kind that needed to be kindled; they were the kind to run like hell away from. She stood and started to make her way to the door without bothering to look at him again. If she did, her gumption might fail her.

She was surprised when Guy’s hand caught hers. “I’m not afraid to be seen in public with you, Andie. I’m afraid for you to be seen out in public with
me
!” Guy sounded exasperated. He let her hand go and rubbed his palm across his eyes.

His words didn't register with Andie’s already made up mind. “What?”

“You don’t understand, Andie. Outside of this room, it isn’t just you and me anymore. It’s everyone—it’s the
whole world
—and every one of them will be looking at us and judging us—you.”

“I’m a big girl, Guy. I think I can handle it.”

“You don’t even know what you’re saying. You have no idea what it’s like to be hounded by fans, chased by the paparazzi, blinded with camera lights. It sucks. I don’t want to put you through that.”

She should have been relieved, but Andie was the type of woman who, when someone lit her fuse, they were better off just letting it burn off than try to snuff it out. All she managed to hear was that she wasn’t someone worth being caught by the paparazzi with—or worse, that he didn’t want to disappoint his female fans by having a less-than-supermodel perfect girl on his arm (okay, that one was probably her own insecurity screaming out).

“If you didn’t want to take me out, then why did you even ask me here? I don’t get it.”

“To get to know you. Isn’t that what you do on a date?”

“To ‘get to know me’ in your hotel room? That sounds a lot like playing a game to get a girl alone in your fancy hotel room and take her to bed. What kind of girl do you think I am?”

“You’re twisting my words around, Andie. I’m trying to
protect
you.”

Andie couldn’t hide her disdain. She didn’t need or want anyone to protect her, much less some jerk with an overinflated ego. “Sounds like you’re trying to protect yourself.” She made sarcastic air quotes around “protect.” “I didn’t come here to Netflix and chill, Mr. Wilder.”

Guy’s handsome face twisted into a scowl. His fist hit the edge of the couch and he ripped the tie from his neck and whipped it on the couch. He stalked toward her. There was no grace in his walk this time, no hint of seduction. He simply stepped directly in front of her, glaring down. The yellow in his eyes was ignited in fiery ring, his lips pursed and angry. Andie automatically took a step backward, then recanted and stood her ground. Fine, they were both angry. It was better than playing games.
Bring it on, vampire boy.

“You don’t know what you’ll be facing out there,
Dr.
Foxglove.” His words were hot. “You have no idea what those people
will
do
to you. And if I wanted to take you to bed, I would have already taken you to bed. I was trying to do things right. What kind of guy do you think
I
am? Not all of us are monsters.”

It was funny how a landslide of insecurity coupled with a sudden adrenaline withdrawal following a near-death experience can twist itself into something that felt really close to anger. Andie could feel herself being irrational—she knew it the moment her mouth opened before the first word ever made it out.

“Go to hell, Guy Wilder.” She snapped her purse from the door-side table and stalked out of the hotel room door.

CHAPTER SIX

The elevator door sprung open immediately when Andie mashed down on the metal button, and she made her escape into its open jaws with movie-perfect precision. Guy never had a chance to catch her before the doors closed and started to carry her down toward the lobby. As far as Andie was concerned, it was good riddance. Just who the hell did he think he was, anyway? The whole thing was a big nonsensical mess and she was not about to waste her time trying to make sense of it all. She stood fuming, tapping the toe of her shoe in angry ticks on the shiny, metallic floor as the elevator dropped down through floors forty to thirty.

By the time the metal box reached the mid-twenties her anger started to crack apart. By the time she was plummeting through the teens, Andie’s heart seemed to be falling in tandem with the elevator. She had possibly overreacted—scratch that—
definitely
overreacted to Guy’s suggestions. He
could
have tried to take her to bed if he’d wanted to, which was what most guys Andie had accepted dates with recently seemed to have in mind as their idea of a first date. And when she’d sunk into his arms after he’d saved her ass from falling off the balcony he pushed away rather than take advantage of her momentary bout with Florence Nightingale syndrome. She’d been the one who made assumptions and flipped out. Sure, the way he’d gone from protesting innocence to unleashing a teensy bit of pent up fury was a little bit scary—although also incredibly sexy. There was something about blurring the fine line between passion and danger that made Andie’s toes curl. When the elevator doors opened to the lobby, she could barely see the grand piano and smiling, anonymous faces behind the mahogany concierge desk through the frustrated tears that had started to swell in her eyes.
What I have I done?

Andie slammed her palm against the door close button and pinned down the button to Guy’s floor. She kept pushing the lit circle over and over even as the elevator counted up through the floors. She knew, logically, that she could beat that button ‘til the cows came home and it wouldn’t make the elevator move a hair faster, but she jabbed at it nonetheless. It helped to pass the time.

The ride up was painfully slow. The elevator slugged its way upward through each floor—ten…twelve…fifteen. Eighteen…twenty-one. Andie counted off the floors and tried to figure out what she’d say when—
if
—Guy opened the door when she knocked on it. He’d probably ignore her, or turn her away like some vacuum-peddling salesman. Worst-case scenario, he’d have her hauled off by hotel security, though that seemed a little extreme and probably worth more bad press than good. Thirty…thirty-one…thirty-five…thirty-nine… That irrational anger and all of its clever feminist rants that had stormed through on her mind on the ride down were gone. Andie couldn’t remember the last time she’d let her emotions get the best of her. Okay, so she had a short fuse, which was true. But usually it wasn’t
this
bad. If nothing else, she could apologize. Blame it on her period, hormonal instability, or whatever lame excuse girls seemed to get away with to whitewash their crazy behavior as long as it sounded genuinely repentant. The numbers seemed to be crawling upward on the slow lift back to the top. Being on the edge of jumping out of her skin didn’t help. Forty-two…forty-seven….

Andie angled her body sideways and slid through the doors before they had time to open fully. She hiked her skirt up and over her knees and ran toward Guy’s door. She tripped over her heels only once, stopped, and kicked them off. Maybe Bryce Dallas Howard could outrun a Tyrannosaurus Rex in high heels in
Jurassic World
, but her watercolor peep toes could rot in the hallway forever for all she cared. She wasn’t running
from
the predator anyway; she was running straight
toward
him. Better to do it barefoot.

Andie had almost made it to the door when, much to her surprise, it was thrown open from the inside. Guy rushed out into the hallway. He was still in his sleek suit pants and striped shirt—and still barefoot—but his suit jacket was gone. His hair was mussed like he’d been shaking his head furiously, and his expression was intense and determined. One arm was thrust midway down the sleeve of his leather jacket, his other arm bent backward trying to find its way into its sleeve. He charged through the hotel room door without a backward glance and left the hotel room door open on its hinges behind him.

As stunned as Andie was to see him—she’d half expected him to be gone when she returned, like some figment of her imagination that disappeared as mysteriously as it had appeared—Guy’s appearance didn’t slow her down in the least. If anything, it seemed to propel her faster. Had he been coming after her?

Oh my god, he’d been coming after her
.

Guy’s eyes zeroed in on her from across the hallway. With a forceful jerk, he shook the jacket loose from his arm and it dropped heavily onto the hallway floor. He raced toward her. Andie pulled her skirt up higher and ran faster, not even caring that her naked legs were almost completely exposed. They seemed on a collision course, sucked together like two powerful magnets. As the pads of her bare feet beat on the carpet, Andie’s apologies disappeared, replaced with one simple command:
get to him
.

His long legs made him faster than her, and when she was within arm’s reach, Guy stopped short and scooped her in his arms. He said nothing—there was no time to say anything—and with one hand cupped around the back of her neck and the other curled around her waist, he clamped her body against his and pressed his mouth against hers. Andie’s knees buckled in Guy’s kiss and he held her in place, tightening his hold to keep her from falling. He didn’t let go.

There was nothing left between them—no hesitation, no doubt. It was just lips and tongue and breath against breath. Their mouths twisted against each other, an entire conversation of apologies and explanations and things unsaid pouring forth between them, and he kissed her and she kissed him back.

When it finally ended, it was too soon.
Holy
wow, Andie was speechless. The world could have burned to the ground around them and she wouldn’t have cared. Reluctantly, tenderly, Guy relaxed his grip, and Andie leaned back into the crook of his elbows. She searched his face for a sign to his thoughts, but found only lips, wet and parted, and densely lashed eyes that gazed back into hers. If she had thought he was handsome before… She struggled for something to say and her lips formed words in quick succession, but nothing came forth.
I have no idea what came over me
, she apologized in her thoughts.
I feel like a hormone-raging teenager and made a complete idiot out of myself. It’s a side effect of that love spell we were talking about—forgive me.
And then—

“I’m sorry, I—”

The corner of Guy’s lips lifted and dismissed her apology. “Worth it.”

She smiled back.

They stood like that, smiling dumbly at each other for a few more minutes. Perhaps neither of them wanted to take the risk of letting the moment pass, in case they weren’t unable to find their way back again. Andie wished she knew what he was thinking.

“Now,” Guy’s hands slid upward from her waist to her shoulders. He cleared his throat while his thumb traced her jawline, held her cheek in the palm of his hand. Dark hair had fallen across his face, casting a shadow over his eyes that swept along the angle of his cheekbones. Andie stood rooted to the spot, trying not to sway. “Let’s start over? I hear the third time’s the charm.”