Hollywood Ever After (8 page)

“Where does that leave you, then?”

“That’s what I was considering when you joined me.” I shrugged. “Totally adrift.”

“I see the need for your compass now.” His voice was teasing, but his eyes were intense.

I smiled at him. “Maybe I
should
get one.”

“What are your options?” He paused. “Wait, start with this. What do you want?”

“No idea.” And that was true. I pulled my legs up and rested my chin on my knees, regarding him from the corner of my eye before turning my attention to the blue ocean before us. “There are things I love to do—writing and painting. But I’m realistic enough to know that it would be next to impossible to find a way to support us through either avenue.”

“Realism is overrated, Claire. Don’t dismiss your dreams. That is the worst possible thing imaginable.” He was thoughtful for a minute. “You’re an artist?”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far. I’ve done some murals, taught art at the Community Center…”

“I’d like to see your work sometime. Passionate people can be exceptionally gifted.” His eyes fell to my lips as he spoke, making me swallow.

I took a deep breath before I spoke again. “Is all of my self-analysis going to make you late to something else?” I wasn’t going to talk about this anymore.

Josh smiled widely, his eyes crinkling. “That wasn’t a very subtle change of subject, you know.”

“That will be my next conversation lesson: using tact to change the topic of discussion.”

His eyes were warm as he scooted toward me. He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me against his side. “I’ve no place else I want to be.” He sighed then dropped a kiss onto the top of my head. We sat in comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of the beach. I let my head fall onto his shoulder and felt his fingers brushing up and down my arm. I was surprised at how comfortable this—he—felt.

His voice was soft as he asked, “Didn’t Shannon mention something about a job?”

I was unaware that he’d been listening to that conversation. Or that he was still mulling things over. “I’m not sure she was serious.”

“Hm. We should find out.”

Something about the
we
made me tense a bit. Out of fear? Or hope? I shook it off and said, “How was your meeting? Were you in trouble for running late?”

An ancient man and his equally ancient black Labrador went walking briskly by us then. I smiled at him. He smiled as he walked by then circled back without breaking his stride. He stopped in front of us with a well-weathered smile.

“Would you like me to take your picture?” the man asked, reaching for the camera in my hands.

“Oh no,” I said.

“Come on, Claire.” Josh looked at me, smiling.

“That would be great, I guess.”
You have a killer smile, Josh Wiley
.

Josh took the camera and handed it to the man, pulling me close against his side.

“Act like you like me,” he murmured against my ear.

Josh kissed my cheek. I felt my cheeks burn.

The man snapped away several times. He gave Josh the camera with a smile and we thanked him. I watched as he and his walking companion set off at a brisk pace down the beach.

“Your hair. I like it.” He wrapped one of my long curls around his finger.

“I suppose the me of today is a bit different from the me of last night.”
And a bit disappointing.

He looked confused. “Not at all. Well, the curls. But those I like.” He smiled his infectious smile. He leaned forward, kissing me until I was breathless. I thought I heard the faint roar of thunder, but it could have been my heart.

I looked at his face, hovering above mine. He kissed my forehead. I shook my head at how easily he distracted me. “Your meeting? How was it?”

“Boring.” His thumb skimmed over my lower lip as he spoke. “I can think of several things I’d rather have been doing.”

The sky turned gray, clouds rolling in as Josh’s lips trailed down my neck.

When the first clap of thunder rumbled in the distance, Josh reluctantly broke his hold on me and pulled me up beside him. His gaze was heavy as he bent down and kissed me ever so softly, ever so sweetly, before taking my hand. We made our way into the hotel.

It took minutes for me to check out then climb into Josh’s very old, somewhat broken-looking vintage Chevrolet. It was clean on the inside, smelling of cigars and Armor All. When Josh climbed in, he was all smiles.

“This is my pet project,” he explained proudly. “A piece of American lore.”

“Chevelle?” I asked.

His eyebrow shot up. “Yes.” I think he was impressed.

“Learning to speak ‘car’ is essential in Texas.” I laughed. My phone rang. “It’s Shannon.”

“Go ahead, take it,” he said, smiling.

I opened my phone. “Hey, woman.”

“On your way?” she asked.

“Yes, en route right now.” I smiled as Josh took my hand in his.

“I’ll be a bit late.” She said something that was muffled at first, and then, “Sorry, work. I’ve got awesome Chinese coming in for your birthday dinner. It’s still your favorite, right? Anyway, the house is yours. The guest suite is ready for you—”

“Can I ask you a question?” I interrupted.

“Shoot.”

“Were you serious about job possibilities?” I asked.

There was a pause. When she spoke, Shannon sounded stressed. “Actually…and you are going to be so pissed at me…you kind of already have a job offer.”

“What are you talking about?”

She cleared her throat before continuing. “You’re so going to kill me. I think your book is amazing. I tried to tell you at the party, but I kind of chickened out. Anyway, I sent it to a publisher friend months ago, and there’s an offer, Claire, a
really good
offer. Look it over, please. It’s on the kitchen table.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“We’ll talk about this tonight, okay?” She sounded nervous.

Good. She should sound nervous. Maybe even a little scared.

I was speechless.

“Is Josh staying?” I could hear the underlying question.

I took a deep breath. “No.”

“Not going to help celebrate?” She was trying to smooth things over.

“No. Josh isn’t staying. I’ll see you when you get there, then.” I could hear the tension in my voice as I snapped the phone shut. I chewed my lip.

I turned a bit to stare out the window, to collect myself. She was right. I was
pissed
.

This was my life, in print. It never occurred to me she’d let anyone else see it. I continued to chew on my lip, wrinkling my nose to keep the angry tears at bay. I couldn’t believe she’d do this to me.

Josh’s phone beeped. “Bloody cell phones.” He patted his chest pocket, pulled the phone out and handed it to me. “Do you mind?”

“Okay.” I sounded somewhat uncertain, but flipped his phone open.

I read aloud. “Meghan says scripts are being sent to your apartment this evening. Let her know ASAP.” I looked at him. “Your meeting this morning? You never finished.” I waited, eager to be distracted from my mental musings.

“Yeah, Meg’s my agent. She’d cleared a few scripts for me, but I told her there were only three I’d read through.”

“And?” I prompted.

He looked very young, his enthusiasm mounting as he spoke. “My favorite is a biopic of Van Gogh, psycho-bugger that he was. Talk about a character piece. But there’s some concern about my maintaining a
persona
.”

“The young, hot, sex icon thing? That sucks.” I sighed, but immediately started laughing at his scowl.

He looked at me, shaking his head with a dramatic sigh. “You’re no help.” He smiled his beautiful smile.

“You’re going to have plenty of opportunities to prove you’re a real talent.” I believed that, without a doubt.

He pulled my hand to his lips, kissing it softly. “I’ll hold you to that.”

I smiled slightly, squeezing his hand gently. “And the other two stories?”

“A spy story during WWII. It has quite a bit of action and a rather sad romantic sideline. It’s good, according to the word from the studios. So it’s my second choice. The third is pure testosterone. Cars, car chases, sex in cars, stealing cars, blowing up cars… Not very original, but they’ve got some big director involved.” He shrugged.

“And what advice have you been given?” I asked. I didn’t know if it was his agent’s job, his publicist’s, manager’s, or whoever’s it was, but surely there was someone who had their finger firmly on the pulse of the industry that was looking out for his best interests.

“It sounds like the WWII film has been mostly cast, with names that I know and admire, so that’s something to consider.”

“Sounds like a smart choice, then.” I imagined him in WWII garb. He’d be dashing.

“The other isn’t as appealing. I want to avoid typecasting, so another action film so soon isn’t wise. They are willing to arrange the shooting around my commitments, willing to give me some creative license—but is it a good fit for me?” He shrugged.

“That’s pretty flattering, though.” But he didn’t look very thrilled.

“I guess it just depends on the scripts, what kind of read they are.”

“And they’ll be waiting for you. Sounds like an interesting evening. History, action, and a bit of psychosis all in one. Like a night with my family,” I said.

His laughed, his shoulders shaking as he turned onto a driveway. “We’re here.”

I looked at the updated ranch with an appreciative eye. It was a sprawling white house with big picture windows and huge green yard. I could see a wide back deck that led down to the beach along the back.
A beach out your back door.

We didn’t say much as he collected my bag from the car. Once inside, I poked around, delaying the inevitable. I knew it was right and expected; there was no reason to drag it out. But I didn’t want to say goodbye yet. I didn’t want the feelings that he brought out in me to go with him when he left.

I took a deep breath and turned to him, smiling.

“I don’t want to go, Claire.” His voice wavered.

I looked up at him, surprised that he felt the same. “But you have to.”

“Why?” His eyes narrowed a bit.

“Because this isn’t real life.” I sounded like I was asking a question.

“It is for me.” He pulled me close and kissed me lightly.

“You have scripts to read and important decisions to make.” Breathing seemed to get a little challenging as his lips continued to move over mine.

“What will you do?”

“I slept most of the day. Maybe I can find a book to read. I
am
on vacation, you know. I’m supposed to be relaxing.” I kissed his lower lip.

He pulled back then, glancing over my shoulder. “Shannon left you something rather important and legal-looking.” He led me to the table where the publishing contract lay, on top of a colored envelope—all arranged by a vase of flowers.

“That’s mine.” I reached for the contract, but his hand caught it first.

His eyes read the cover page. “This is about your book?
The
project?”

“It’s not a project. It’s more of a journal.” I sounded angry.

“A journal?” His jaw seemed to tighten and he turned his attention back to the contract.

“Sort of. It’s very personal. Why Shannon thinks I need to share it is beyond me. But she does, so much so that she’s already sent it to a publisher.” My voice wavered and I closed my eyes, willing the tears back.

“Oh.” He was assessing my face as he said gently, “Without your permission?”

I nodded silently.

“That’s a bit unforgivable of her,” he murmured. “Are you all right?”

“I’m really angry. I can’t believe she put my very…very humiliating life into a stranger’s hands because
she
thinks it should be published.” I felt tears well up and shook my head.
I will not cry.

Josh seemed at a loss. His eyes went back and forth between me and the contract. “I imagine she thought she was trying to do something good for you.” He tilted my head back, meeting my eyes with tenderness.

I was suddenly aware of a tear dangling from my nose. My voice was quivering as I spoke. “I’m a private person. Well, maybe not to you. I can’t seem to shut up around you.” I mumbled to a stop as I sniffed.

He studied my expression. “I bludgeoned you into sharing. I feel like an utter ass now. Poorly done on my part.” He pulled me back into his arms and kissed me soundly.

I melted against him.

“Don’t cry.” He kissed me again, and again. His hand settled against my cheek and he peered down at me. I could only imagine my red nose and mottled cheeks. I get all blotchy when I cry.

“Come on. A hot shower and some tea will make things less gloomy.” He took my hand, leading me around until we found the guest suite and a bathroom.

He sat me on the stool before the mirror, leaned into the shower and turned on the hot water. I was sniffling a little, but trying desperately to stop.

He seemed saddened by the obvious battle I was having with my emotions. He helped me undress, his hands growing unsteady and lingering by the time I stood before him in my skimpy black lace bra and underwear.

He pulled me into his embrace unsteadily. His hands moved up and down my back until I was completely relaxed in his hold. “I’m going to make you a cup of tea. Or coffee. Whatever I can find,” he whispered, dropping a kiss on my neck.

My breath was a little shaky as I nodded against his chest.

His voice was soft against my ear. “Claire?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“If it’s all right with you, I’ll go get the scripts and come back.”

I felt a smile spread across my face as I glanced up at him. “Reading scripts, with hot tea…or coffee.”

“You’re sure? It’s not infringing on birthday plans?”

I shook my head. “No. I hope you like Chinese. It’s my favorite.”

“I do. I’ll let you take your shower and I’ll be back shortly.” He kissed me quickly, then slipped from the bathroom with one last lingering look at my black lace ensemble. He groaned as he shut the door, making me smile in spite of everything.