Damage Control (The Hollywood Series Book 2) (14 page)

He huffed. “Please. I’m an actor.” He threw a fleeting glance over his shoulder at Lauren. “Have your publicist call me, and we’ll set up a date where I’ll make doe eyes at you in a very public place.”

“Thank you,” Grace said quietly.

The sliding door clicked shut behind him. He crossed the living room with long steps and stopped in front of the couch, where Lauren sat.

Grace tensed, but before she could get up and hurry inside, he said something and then left. Exhaling sharply, she folded her arms on the table and buried her face in the bend of her elbow. God, and she had thought the day couldn’t get much worse.

When the door closed behind Nick, Lauren got up and walked to the window, watching him get into his car and slowly make his way down the dirt road until he disappeared around a bend. Everything was quiet outside, so apparently he had managed not to lead the paparazzi here.

Lauren crossed the room and reached out to open the sliding glass door but then paused.

Grace was sitting at the edge of the patio, her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs, and her forehead pressed to her knees.

Maybe it was better to give her a few minutes to collect herself.

Lauren went back to the couch. Had she ever been in such an awkward situation with a client? She didn’t think so. She had been on tour with bands, had witnessed them fight like sworn enemies and then hug each other like the best of friends for the cameras, but she’d never been in the middle of such a personal crisis. Perhaps it would have been better if she left and went back to LA, but one glance at the figure outside made her want to go out there and comfort Grace instead. Besides, the sun would set soon and she didn’t think she could safely navigate the dirt road in the dark.

When Grace lifted her head off her knees, Lauren slid back the glass door and joined her, sitting next to her. “Hey,” she said quietly. “Are you okay?”

Grace nodded without looking at her. Her expression was calm and collected, but Lauren still didn’t believe her. Grace hadn’t won three Golden Globes for nothing. “I’m sorry you had to witness that,” Grace said. “He’s usually not such a…”

“Asshole?” Lauren provided.

For a moment, Grace looked as if she wanted to defend her soon-to-be ex-husband, but then she nodded. “Something like that, yes.”

They sat side by side in silence, watching the sun set over the canyon. As the sun dipped lower and then sank below the horizon, ribbons of orange, crimson, and purple stretched across the sky. The moon was already rising, reflecting the orange light of the setting sun. Wisps of clouds drifted on the breeze, casting shadows over the canyon.

Lauren turned her head in Grace’s direction to say something but promptly forgot what she’d been about to say when she caught sight of Grace. The sunset bathed her in a dusky golden glow, weaving specks of light through her hair. She looked as if she were in a scene from one of her romantic movies.

“What?” Grace asked as if sensing her gaze.

Lauren looked away. “Nothing. It’s just…beautiful out here.”

Grace gazed toward the horizon, where only a single band of orange remained. “It is,” she said quietly.

As darkness fell, the full moon rose over the hills and the stars came out. There were no neighbors and no street noise, just crickets chirping and a coyote howling in the distance. An owl hooted in a nearby tree.

Finally, Grace unwrapped her arms from around her knees, leaned back on her hands, and looked at Lauren. “What did Nick say to you before he left?”

“He gave me his card so I can call him to set up a public date for the two of you and then he told me to take good care of you.” A little too patronizing for Lauren’s taste, but he honestly seemed to care about Grace.

Grace sighed. “I need a good soak.” She walked over to the above-ground redwood hot tub and flipped a switch.

“Now?” Lauren asked. The temperature had dropped after the sun had set.

“It’s either that or a drink. Feel free to join me. The hot tub is large enough for two.”

A picture of her and Grace, their wet bodies pressed together in the hot tub, rose in front of Lauren’s mind’s eye. Her breath caught.
Very, very bad idea
, she firmly told herself even though her body said something else
.
“Uh, no, thanks. I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

“I have one I could lend you,” Grace said.

Lauren’s thoughts raced, trying to come up with an inconspicuous reply. “Thanks, but I think I should try to get that statement written for tomorrow.” She marveled at how calm and professional she sounded. Maybe Grace’s acting skills were rubbing off on her.

“Right.” Grace got up and went inside.

Lauren fled to the small table on the patio and opened the laptop, planning on being totally immersed in her work by the time Grace came back out in her swimsuit or—God help her—a bikini.

She didn’t look up when she heard the sliding door open a few minutes later. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of a shapely leg and skin that looked soft in the moonlight.
Work! You’re here to work, not to ogle a client.

But that was easier said than done as the sounds of a towel being dropped and then water splashing drifted over. Lauren cursed her overactive imagination, which showed her the water rising up a bare belly as Grace lowered herself into the hot tub. Droplets slid down her neck and into her bikini top and—

Lauren roughly shook her head. Christ, what was wrong with her? She’d never fantasized about any celebrity, and now was not the time to start. Turning the laptop a little so that the screen blocked her line of sight to the hot tub, she focused on finding the right words to tell the public that Jill had multiple sclerosis.

Grace sank onto the built-in seat, letting the warm water envelop her until she was submerged to her neck. The tension in her shoulders was killing her, so she slid a little to the side until her back was against one of the jets. She hoped a good soak would loosen her muscles and help clear her head.

Moonlight glittered on the surface of the swirling water. Steam wafted up into the darkness as she reached up to tug a strand of damp hair behind her ear.

Taking a deep breath, she slid down until the churning water closed over her head. The sounds of the crickets and Lauren’s typing faded away, and she felt as if she were in a world of its own—a silent realm where none of her problems mattered.

She emerged only to take a deep breath and then went down again, staying under water for as long as possible. When her lungs started to burn, she pressed her feet against the bottom of the hot tub and shot upward. Her head broke the surface, and she looked directly into Lauren’s eyes.

Lauren stood next to the hot tub, regarding her with a worried expression. “Jesus, Grace! You scared me half to death. I was about to reach in and pull you out.”

Grace brushed her wet hair away from her face with both hands. “Nah. Don’t worry. I’m a good swimmer.”

“Lots of pool parties in your youth?” Lauren asked, now sounding calmer.

Grace placed her arms along the edge of the hot tub, enjoying the difference in temperature and the steam wafting up from her skin. “I wish. No. My mother thought swimming was a good form of exercise for a girl, so she made me get up an hour early every day so I could swim before school.”

Lauren didn’t comment. “I’d better get back to work. Try not to drown on my watch, okay? I’d hate to have to deal with the headlines.”

Grace grinned and leaned back against the jets.

When the tips of her fingers started to prune, she finally climbed out, dripping water onto the stone patio as she headed over to the chairs, where she’d left her towel.

Lauren was still tapping away at the laptop. Every now and then, she stopped typing, pushed up her glasses, and rubbed her eyes.

Grace regarded her with a shake of her head. “You’re a worse workaholic than I am, and that’s saying something.”

Lauren’s head jerked up as if she hadn’t heard Grace get out of the hot tub and walk over. “Uh, what?”

“I said you’re a worse workaholic than I am,” Grace repeated. She took the towel off the back of the chair and rubbed it over her arms before bending to dab it over her legs.

“It’s not always like this,” Lauren said. “Just…” She trailed off, sounding distracted, and stared at something.

“Just?” Grace straightened and tried to see what Lauren was looking at, but the silver moonlight reflected off her glasses and made it impossible to see her eyes.

“Uh, just… Okay, it’s like this a lot of the time.” Lauren raised her hand to cover her mouth as she coughed.

A cool breeze brushed along Grace’s back, making her shiver. Goose bumps raced over every inch of her skin. She wrapped the towel around herself. “I’d better get inside and change into something dry. You should come inside too before you catch a cold. That cough doesn’t sound good.” A wave of protectiveness swept over her, surprising her. But perhaps it was only logical. She needed Lauren healthy so she could do her job as her publicist.

“I’m fine,” Lauren said and coughed again.

Grace raised one brow at her.

“Really,” Lauren said. “I’m not sick. I always start coughing when I’m tired.”

“You cough when you’re tired?” Grace squinted at her. She’d never heard of such a thing.

“I swear it’s true. My doctor couldn’t explain why. It’s just a weird little thing.”

Grace kept studying her. “But he’s sure that it’s nothing bad?”

“Yes. It’s just a cough or two, not like I’m hacking up a lung or anything,” Lauren said. “I don’t get it very often, just when I’m really exhausted.”

“Well, it’s been a long day.”

Lauren nodded. “You can say that again. And tomorrow probably won’t be any better.”

“So come on in and let’s go to bed,” Grace said.

The chair creaked as Lauren shifted her weight. “I’ll just finish this up and be inside in a minute.”

“Okay.” Another gust of wind made Grace hurry inside. Shivering, she went into the cottage’s tiny bathroom, dropped the towel, and stripped off her swimsuit. The wet material peeled off her goose-pebbled skin and hit the floor. Routinely, she swept her gaze over her naked form, taking in every ounce of fat on her hips with a critical eye and then traveling up. Her nipples had hardened into tight peaks in the cold. She reached into the shower to turn on the hot water, then froze and looked back down at her chest. Blood rushed to her cheeks, heating them. Was that what Lauren had been staring at?

She considered it for a moment and then rolled her eyes at herself.
Don’t flatter yourself.
If she thought that everyone desired her, she’d definitely been in Hollywood for too long. With a shake of her head, she stepped into the shower.

As soon as Grace had disappeared inside, Lauren closed the laptop and fanned herself with both hands. Despite the dropping temperature, she was overheated. Being kissed by Tabby Jones, the attractive singer who’d been on the cover of both
Rolling Stone
and
Playboy
, had left her cold, but the sight of Grace in just a swimsuit, the wet material clinging to her chest, water dripping down her curvaceous body…

Jesus! Stop it! The woman is your client—your straight, married client.
She’d probably fire her, this time for good, if she knew where Lauren’s thoughts were headed. Lauren had worked with models, beauty queens, and actresses, all of them gorgeous, some of them lesbian or bi, and a few even interested in a quick adventure with their publicist. Still, it had never been this difficult to keep her libido in check and stay professional. What the heck was it about Grace Durand that made it so hard to think of her as just a client?