Camera Shy (27 page)

She chewed her lip, struggling to find the words.

"Allyson . . . ."

I love you, Jason, more than you can possibly imagine
. She drew back slightly and looked up at him. "You barely know me, Jason." Her voice cracked and she tried to swallow the threat of tears.

"I know enough. I want to know more about you, but I know I'm in love with you."

She avoided his eyes.
I love you like I've never loved another man, and it scares the hell
out of me.
"I don't, I don't know what I feel yet, Jason," she said, choking back emotion.

"It's okay," he said, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. "I just needed you to know how I feel."

"Jason . . . ."
I love you, and I can't bring myself to say it, because saying it would make
it too real
.

He dropped his gaze. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't—"

She took his hand. "No, don't be. I'm not saying I don't—" She paused, nearly choking on the "love you" that threatened to follow.
You don't know who I am. You don't
know me, Jason
. "All I know is . . . ." She took a breath. "Is that I
don't
know."
You don't
know that I'm scared you won't love me when you find out who I really am, and I'm so in love
with you I'm scared to take that chance
.

Jason exhaled. "When you do, one way or the other, tell me. But . . . ." He wetted his lips. "I can't pretend I don't." His fingers ran through her hair. "Right or wrong, it's what I feel."

"Just give me some time," she whispered.

"As much time as you need." He stroked her hair. "I'll be here."

"Thank you," she said, forcing the words past the lump in her throat. "I should go."

"I know." He kissed her gently. "Whenever you want to come back, I'll be here." She gave him one last kiss and got in the car.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Allyson, I love you
.

His words echoed in her mind and tears sprang to her eyes. Driving down the highway toward Victoria, she desperately wanted to turn around and go back to him. This was exactly what wasn't supposed to happen.

She was supposed to tell him. She was supposed to be honest, tell him everything he deserved to hear. She was supposed to tell him
before
he fell in love with the façade she'd so masterfully maintained since they met what felt like a lifetime ago. The longer she dragged this out, the more it was going to hurt when the truth came out.

"Shit." Her knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. Guilt gnawed at her. The
whole point
of this trip was to tell him everything, but when she learned about his history, she'd lost her nerve.

This trip was supposed to be more than just getting her Jason fix. But God, she hadn't expected him to have such a painful past. He was married to a woman who'd behaved eerily similar to the old Simone. She was scared he would reject her if he knew half of the things she'd done. There was simply no denying she was more in love with him than she ever thought possible, no matter how much she'd sworn up and down she wouldn't fall for him. The harder she fell, the more afraid she was of losing him. But the time had come for honesty. And not just with Jason. She'd hurt a lot of people in the last few years, and it was time for a change. She had a daughter who needed her, a man who loved her, and a lot of people who were waiting for her to get her head out of her ass.

Which is, of course, why she went to Tofino in the first place. No more excuses.

No more lies.

No more stringing people along.

"As soon as I get back to L.A.," she said aloud. "No more excuses."

* * * * *

Jason reclined on the couch and rested the cold glass against his forehead. For the hundredth time, he relived that moment by her car.

Couldn't wait, could you, Connor? Had to just throw it out there while she already had
one foot out the door
. Again.

"Fuck," he whispered. He sipped the Jack Daniels, then rested the glass on the arm of the couch and sighed.

That familiar knot of cold dread coiled in his gut. She was still hiding something from him, still not telling him everything. One minute she trusted him enough to photograph her naked in spite of her camera shyness, the next, she pretended nothing was bothering her while they held each other on the couch. Each time she took two steps toward him, she took another three back.

What was he missing? He'd tried to be open with her. Tried letting her know how he felt, thinking that would make her feel more comfortable with him. In the heat of the moment, he'd thrown the Hail Mary. Stuck his neck out, laid everything on the line for her, and still she balked.

He sipped his drink and grimaced as it burned its way down his throat. Part of him wanted to just call the whole thing her off, to tell her to come back when she figured out what she felt. He was nobody's doormat, but he couldn't help the way felt about her. He was in love with her. Completely, totally, helplessly, stupidly in love with her.

He just needed something from her. A sign. A signal.
Something
.

"What do you want me to do, Allyson?" he whispered.

Chapter Forty-Nine

The next morning, Simone was ready to call Jason and iron things out, but a glance at her calendar reminded her that she had other obligations. Though she wanted nothing more than to call him and get it over with, she was supposed to pick Cecily up from Gregory's. Before she dealt with Jason and told him everything—
and damn it, I will.
This time I will. He has to know
—she was going to be a responsible, attentive parent for once in her life. She'd neglected her daughter for too long.

Tonight, she promised herself.
Tonight, I will call Jason and lay it all out on the table
. Discussing this on the phone seemed cowardly, but she'd blown her chance to do so in person, and her confession couldn't wait another day. She gulped back the fear and the what ifs. She would. She had to.

But first, Cecily.

As she pulled out of her driveway, the throngs of paparazzi swarming in the street soured her good spirits. "Fucking vultures," she muttered. There were more than usual; someone must've found out she was flying in the night before. She kept her windows rolled up and her eyes on the road, refusing to let them dampen her good spirits.

All along the way to Gregory's, her mind kept going back to the last few days with Jason.

She fidgeted in the driver's seat. It had been less than twenty-four hours since she last tasted his kiss, but she couldn't wait to be in his arms again. A man like him had to be too good to be true. He just had to be. How could he be so fun, and so sweet, and so unbelievably phenomenal in bed? She didn't deserve a man as incredible as Jason. How could she have ever thought she wasn't in love with him?

Even through her happiness, guilt gnawed at her that she still hadn't been completely honest with him. He knew there was still more to tell, and seemed confident that when she was ready, she would tell him. She just hoped he understood. He would, she assured herself. He had to. Telling him over the phone seemed cowardly after she'd

had every opportunity to tell him in person, but it couldn't wait anymore. He needed to know who she was. He deserved the truth.

And he needed to know how she felt, because there was no mistaking it now; she was absolutely in love with Jason Connor.

She hummed along with the radio and smiled until her face ached. In spite of her nervousness about telling him everything, she couldn't remember being this happy. After parking in front of Gregory's house, she took the front steps two at a time and knocked on the door. She had a few ideas of places to go with Cecily today, but figured she'd leave that up to her. Maybe they'd even make the trip to Disneyland, or head out to the beach, or just hang out at home and—

The door flew open. The fury in Gregory's eyes nearly sent Simone tumbling backward down the stairs.

"I do hope you're proud of yourself," he snarled.

"I, what? What are you talking about, Gregory?"

He threw a magazine at her. "You know damn well what I'm talking about." She picked up the magazine—a tabloid—and her blood ran cold as she stared at the front page:

Troubled Star BUSTED in Canada with Mystery Lover!

' . . .another fling
. . . .' says a source close to Simone Farrell.
'Another notch in the
bedpost
.'

Her stomach lurched into her throat at the fuzzy but undeniable images of herself with Jason. Topless, kissing him in his boat. In his arms on the little crescentshaped island. Big, bold letters promising:
Even more photos we could barely censor enough
to show you!

"Gregory, I—"

"You promised me you'd get it together," he said through clenched teeth. His voice was raw with hurt and rage. "You promised you wouldn't humiliate yourself like this." He gestured at the closed door behind him. "Your daughter saw this, Simone." Tears burned Simone's eyes. "It's not what it looks like, Gregory."

"Oh, isn't it?" He threw his hands up. "I suppose your fling with that Australian asshole
wasn't what it looked like
either, was it?" She gulped, bunching the paper in her sweaty hands. "This is different, Gregory, I swear to God. I'm
not
just fooling around this time. They've got it all wrong." He gestured at the tabloid. "Well, pictures say a thousand words, don't they?" She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off with a sharp gesture. "You'll be hearing from my lawyer on Monday. I'm taking you back to court, and I'm taking Cecily. If you're lucky, you
might
get a supervised visit from time to time, but I wouldn't count on it." He turned to go but she grabbed his arm.

"Gregory, please. I swear to God, this isn't what it looks like."

"It wasn't last time, either."

Simone's gut twisted. "No. No, last time it was exactly what it looked like." He turned away, the corner of his mouth twitching with emotion. She went on, "I'm sorry, Gregory. I'm sorry for everything I've done to you, and to Cecily." He looked at her, his eyes wet. "It's not going to cut it this time, Simone. I had faith in you, that you were getting back on track, but you blew it. Again. For the last time."

Before she could say another word, he wrested his arm from her and went inside, slamming the door. The sound echoed through Simone's head. Her hand went to her mouth. She couldn't breathe as she stared at the pictures.

She had to talk to Jason.

Chapter Fifty

The earliest flight she could get to Victoria left in a few hours, and she couldn't reach Jason by phone. Before she left, Simone had time to make one more brief stop. She parked, stormed up the walkway to the posh jewelry store and shoved the glass door open.

Every head in the place turned. Rage bubbled inside Simone as her gaze swept over everyone.

"Simone, what a pleasant surprise." Her sister's saccharine-sweet tone inflamed Simone's fury even more. Carolyn stood behind the counter, holding a necklace up for a younger couple.

"You
bitch
," Simone snarled.

"Simone, this can wait," Carolyn said through gritted teeth. A few people whispered as they stared, wide-eyed, at the two sisters.

"No, I think that really
is
her," one said.

Simone bristled. She was going to pay for this one in the gossip columns, but she didn't care.

"Now
is
the time, Carolyn," she said. "We can either do it in here, or out there." She gestured sharply at the door leading out to the parking lot. Carolyn flashed her customers a phony smile. "Will you excuse me for a moment?"

The woman nodded, still staring at Simone, while her husband glowered at Carolyn.

An older woman with an expression as steel-hard as the taut silver bun in her hair touched Carolyn's arm. "Why don't the two of you take care of this
elsewhere
?" The tone reminded Simone of Anne-Marie's "don't argue with me" voice, but it held decidedly less affection. Carolyn glanced at her boss, swallowing with worry. Then she glared at Simone and followed her out into the parking lot. As soon as they were outside, Simone whirled on her heel and stabbed a finger in Carolyn's direction. "How could you do this to me?"

Her sister folded her arms across her chest. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh really? I suppose it's just a coincidence that a 'trusted source close to me'

reported details
only you knew
to a tabloid."

A smirk flickered across Carolyn's mouth. "I guess you should be careful who you leak details to, then."

"You're my sister, Carolyn!" Her eyes burned with the threat of angry—and now, deeply hurt—tears. "I trusted you."

Carolyn's gaze flicked toward a group of wide-eyed passers-by who had stopped to stare. "Oh give it a rest, Simone," she hissed. "You're making a scene." Simone laughed. "I'm making a scene? You smear
bullshit
about my personal life all over the media, as if it's any of your business, and I am the one making a scene?"

"I didn't take those pictures," Carolyn said. "And I didn't write the articles. And I
certainly
wasn't the one running around naked on a beach with some tattooed young man." She threw her hands up and smiled. "It seems to me that you did most of the work."

"You were one of
two
people who knew I was in Tofino. An amazing coincidence that the paparazzi found me there
days
after I told you."

"Then I guess I'm guilty, aren't I? Heaven forbid someone finds out where a goddamn movie star is hiding out."

"What is your problem, Carolyn?" Simone demanded. "You just can't stand to see anyone else happy?"

The sarcasm evaporated and Carolyn's tone turned venomous. "I can't stand to see people get rich and famous who don't deserve it and then fuck it away." Her eyes narrowed. "And I do mean
literally
fuck it away this time, just like you've done all along."

"Is that what this is all about?"

Carolyn's eyes narrowed. "You've done nothing but fuck away everything you've been given. A movie career, a movie star husband, a life anyone would envy." She shifted her weight. Her jaw was rigid. "I think you damn well deserved to be knocked down a notch."