15 Shades Of Pink (37 page)

She frowned.
Not that you’ll have to worry about that
.

***

His first instinct was to go out for a drink, but he’d promised Molly he wouldn’t.
How else am I supposed to get her out of my mind?

It was the kiss that’d done it. He’d thought she wasn’t interested, but that kiss had been a newsflash—something was there. It’s not like having a Jack Tyler poster in her room when she was growing up meant she was interested in a has-been actor she’d found drunk on the beach. But he felt desire and need in that kiss, and in the way she’d grabbed his shoulders. He’d have to score another one to find out for sure.

In the meantime, jumping in a cold pool back home seemed to be the best cure for his current problem. Which was impressive, because in the past, it would have been a couple of cold ones instead. Molly would be proud.

***

He picked her up the next morning and drove her to the beach. “I figure if we stroll along holding hands, enough people will see us, take pictures and spread the word to get the ball rolling,” he said, as they hopped out of the car.

“Sounds like a plan.” She pulled a sundress out of her beach bag and put it on over her suit.

He looked at her, confused.
Why cover up that beautiful body?
He’d been looking forward to seeing it.

“I don’t want to see what I look like in my bathing suit in a tabloid.”

“Why not? You look great.” And he’d meant it. But she just raised an eyebrow at him, like he’d announced he liked boiled liver.

They walked down the wooden pathway to the beach, and he reached for her hand. He squeezed it and he was pleased she squeezed back.

It didn’t take long for people to sit up, slide down their sunglasses, and nudge their friends. And yes, there were a few not-so-hilarious comments.

“Going for a swim?”

“You’re still washed up!”

Molly looked up at him with those big dark eyes of hers and he thought he might nearly drown again. “No, you’re not.”

Swallowing hard at her sweet words, he squeezed her hand again. Harder and longer this time. Finally, they stopped walking and he set up their chairs and umbrella.

“Do you think people are going to watch us all day?” she asked.

“Yep. I’m sure of it. Let’s just stay here for a bit, then we’ll go back to my place and swim in the pool.”

She took off her sundress and lay back in the chair. Her skin was smooth with just a hint of a tan. The last two girlfriends he had—loosely meaning women he’d slept with more than twice—had been devotees of the tanning bed. He’d had a few wallets the color of their skin, and just as rough feeling, too. Women like that always tried to stand out at the beach. Molly seemed like she’d be happy to crawl into a shell.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Relax, it’ll be fine.” She smelled good, like coconut and flowers and rain.

She nodded, and then he kissed her cheek. “Just trying to make it seem legit,” he said.

“Of course.”

He rested his arm next to hers on her chair, aware that curious beach-goers were still strolling by, some trying to discreetly take a picture with their phones, others pointing and whispering to friends.

She drummed her fingers; she wasn’t relaxing at all.

They stayed at the beach for an hour, then retreated to his rental, where she promptly jumped in the pool. He followed her in. He didn’t have a reason to be close to her, but he wanted to. If he wasn’t careful, he could destroy his fake relationship by trying to start a real one. He hung back and let her float in the deep end, staring up at the sky.

Finally, she swam up to him. “Can I trust you not to drown in here? I need to go home and get to work on the bathroom. I’ve only got a few weeks left, and there’s lots to do.”

“Molly, we’re taking care of everything—the roof, the fence, the rest of the painting.”

She twisted her lips. “Oh. Right. I keep forgetting. I hope you don’t think I’m horrible, accepting all this help.” She looked down, her cheeks pink.

He pulled her toward him. “Not at all. You’re doing it for your grandmother. It’s really sweet. And you’re helping me.” Not many people had gone out of their way to help him. Usually, they were looking for something from him.

She looked up at him with wide eyes and he kissed her. He felt her draw in a breath and then relax as she slid her hands up his arms.

He stepped back before he slid his arms around her waist, and over her rear. “I’m getting used to this,” he said.
I’m getting used to you
. And while it felt awesome, it was not a good thing. Staying away from alcohol had been easier than he’d expected. Staying away from her probably would not.

“I should go,” she said, climbing out of the pool, doing her best not to look at him. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“First thing.”

***

Neither of them admitted it, but their pretend-relationship was quickly becoming more than that. Michael could’ve just spent an hour or two with her each day, being sure people saw them together. But neither of them seemed to want their time together to end.

They spent each day together, from the time she woke till the time she went to bed. Their kisses had become longer, more passionate, and more frequent, and his hands no longer hung at his sides when he kissed her; they ran across her back, or over her shoulders, along her hips. She was having a hard time imagining what it would be like without him around. Five days into it, and she knew she as falling for him. She’d better enjoy him while she could, because they only had a few more weeks left together. The thought made her throat tighten. So she tried not to think about it.

She woke up early Friday, excited to see him. They planned to drive out to Provincetown. In all her years on the Cape, she’d never been down there. She went to his house, as planned, but he wasn’t there. However, his agent, Larry, was. “He’s down at the beach,” he told her.

“Thanks!” She carried her beach bag down to the spot they’d made their own after the last few days. From the photographers gathered near the shore, she figured that’s where he was. But why were photographers taking pictures now? Surely this had to be old news, but there were so many of them down there.

She stopped a few feet away from him. He wasn’t alone, and the woman next to him looked familiar.
Wait, it can’t be. Trisha Tegan?
His co-star from
Heartbreak Beach
. Her jaw dropped.

The photographers spotted Molly and moved closer, snapping shots. Michael turned to see her, Trisha still wrapped in his arms. He tried to pull away, but Trisha kept his hand in hers as he came toward Molly.

Molly started walking backwards, shaking her head. Her mouth went dry and she hoped she didn’t look as devastated as she felt because the photographers were capturing the whole thing, swinging around now to get shots of Michael heading toward her. “Molly!”

Molly tripped in the sand and fell, then stood up, brushing herself off, but still unable to take her eyes off Michael and Trisha. Whether or not it was real didn’t matter. He clearly was finished with her.

Trisha sidled up next to Michael and slung her arm around his shoulder and planted a kiss on his cheek as the photographers clicked away.

Molly was finally able to swallow. “Go away.” It came out in a whisper; he probably didn’t even hear her. But her role in this charade was done. Spinning around, she ran back to her grandmother’s.

Workers were installing a new fence, and a crew was tackling the roof. She stormed past them toward the house, wondering if they’d stop work once Michael’s agent found out she was bailing on their deal. Didn’t matter. She’d work it out somehow; take out a loan to finish it, if she had to.

Footsteps crunched on the path along Grandma’s house. Michael pushed through the gate. “Molly!”

“Please go away,” she pleaded.

“I was just as surprised as you were. I didn’t know Trisha was coming.”

She shrugged. “But you were happy to see her.” Her voice was low and tight.

He held up his hands, as if uncertain what to say. “As a friend, yeah.”

“And all the photographers just happened to be there.”

The gate swung open again, and Larry pushed through, wearing khaki shorts and a magenta Hawaiian shirt. “I called the photographers. I got this great idea, called Trisha and she was in. She’s looking to revamp her career, too.”

Molly crossed her arms. “I said I was only going to do this if Michael wasn’t hooking up with other women.”

Larry shrugged. “They weren’t exactly hooking up.”

“They were hugging and kissing on the beach—just like Michael and I have been doing. I look like an idiot.” She took a deep breath and tried to slow her breathing, and held up her hands. “Listen, it’s fine. Just finish the work on Grandma’s house like you promised, and let Michael and Trisha play their thing out. I’m done. I’ve given you plenty of fodder for Michael’s comeback.” She pulled open the screen door and went inside, letting it slam behind her. Then she closed and locked the back door.

And she didn’t even open it when she heard Michael knocking and calling for her.

***

“Larry, you could have cleared this with me,” Michael said, walking back to his house. Molly hadn’t answered the door, and he figured he’d give her some time to cool off. “We made a promise to her and we broke it.”

“If I’d told you about it, you would have said no.”

“Exactly.”

“Michael, you hired me for a reason—to get you work. And that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’ve got three studios clamoring to make another
Heartbreak Beach
. Just say the word. And I guarantee after today’s stunt hits the papers, you’re going to get offers beyond the beach movie.

Trisha caught up to them. “Where’s your place?” she asked Michael.

“Up the road. Why?”

“I’m staying with you.”

Michael stopped walking. “This is going to be incredibly embarrassing for Molly.”

“We’re going to hold up our end of the deal, and she doesn’t even have to be with you anymore.”

“You know what? I want to be with her.” He went to the kitchen, rummaging around for a drink, but remembered he’d gotten rid of all the alcohol. He swore under his breath and thought about going to a bar. Surely, someone would be serving alcohol soon. Instead, he thought of Molly’s big, trusting eyes and jumped in the pool to work off his frustration.

After getting Trisha settled at a hotel instead of his place and going over possible movie deals with Larry—who was finally backing off on the
Heartbreak Beach
sequel—he decided to visit Molly.

It wasn’t a far walk, and he still had some angst to burn off so he left his car home. He was going to tell her how he felt. It was stupid to pretend they were dating, when he really did want to date her. She needed to know that, even if she didn’t feel the same way.

Walking toward her grandmother’s house, he frowned. Her friend Colleen’s Miata was there. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with that again, but hopefully she was on her way out. He stood in the driveway, ready to ring the bell, when he heard crying from inside. He pressed himself against the door, not sure what to do.

“What do you expect? He’s an actor. They play by different rules,” he heard her friend Colleen say.

More crying and sniffling followed that. “I’m so embarrassed. I thought…I thought maybe he really liked me. But I guess I was just another stupid co-star he was acting with.”

“Right! How could you know, sweetie?”

Michael took a deep breath. He knew this had been a bad idea when Larry proposed it. But there’d been that picture of him carrying her. Denying it wouldn’t have done much. He swore to himself. He didn’t know if there was any way to fix this. He rang the doorbell, dreading to see Molly’s sad face.

Colleen was quick to answer. His biggest fan wasn’t so happy to see him now. “I don’t think she wants to talk to you.”

“But I want to talk to her. I need to.”

Colleen tipped her nose in the air and stepped aside. Molly sat on the couch, hugging a pillow. She looked away when he walked in, wiping her eyes, and blinking up at the ceiling.

His heart fell. God, what had he done? “Molly, I’m sorry. Trish and I aren’t getting together. She’s at her own hotel; I made it clear to the press that she’s in town just to talk about movies.” He looked down at the floor. “So there’s no reason to be embarrassed.”

“It’s not just that—you broke her heart!” Colleen said. “She thought you cared…”

Molly wouldn’t look at him.

He was stunned. This really had meant more to her than just a way to get her grandmother’s house fixed up.

Molly finally looked up at him. “This just can’t work out between us, you know? You’re leaving in a few weeks anyway. Let’s just end it now before it gets too difficult.”

He wanted to scoop her up in his arms again, like the day she’d stepped in the paint. He wanted to take her back to his place where they could be alone. But in the end, he’d just give her another reason not to believe in men. The real ones, anyway. Too bad he wasn’t really Jack Tyler. Then again, that movie didn’t have a happy ending either.

He walked over to the couch, pulled her up, and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” he said, kissing her head. Then he dropped her hand and walked out the door, trudging home. He should be thrilled that he’d gotten his career back. But it had come at a huge cost—a woman he thought he could love.

***

Molly flopped back on the couch and flung her arm over her eyes. Colleen had left after whipping up a batch of chocolate chip cookies for her. Molly didn’t have the heart to tell her not even a forest full of Keebler elves could help her get over this. And it wasn’t just because he was the actor who played Jack Tyler. Sure, he was handsome and charming. But Michael was much more than that. He was humble, despite the huge successes he’d seen. He was thoughtful—and he was nice to Grandma. Major points there.

Grandma wandered out from the kitchen. “I hate seeing you so sad, Molly. If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. Things’ll work out if he’s the one.”