Hollywood Hot Mess (28 page)

“I never chose this life, Devon.” My eyes narrow and my words are a low hiss. I don’t even know what he’s talking about, too preoccupied with my own thoughts to really follow what he’s saying. All I know is I’m pissed, and somebody’s about to get the full dose of my anger.

“You may not have chosen it.” He turns to me. “But you haven’t walked away from it either.” His eyes are vacant. How can he be so cold?

“Fuck you, Devon!” I shout, and slap the plant off the table it sits on. It crashes to the floor, sending dirt and broken terra-cotta spilling over the damn dark lacquered floors.

He stares at the plant. I can tell he’s pushing his anger down by the way his temples pulse and jaw muscles flex. But what the hell do I care?

“Your life has sucked. I get that.” His voice is so low my ears strain to hear. “But what you fail to see is that you can’t have a future when you’re living in the past.
Mighty
can relaunch your career if you let it. And I know deep down, you want that—even if you can’t admit it. But until you get over yourself, and your whole ‘poor little Carly Klein’ pity party, you’ll never be anything more than what you are right now.” He turns to leave the room. I’m fighting tears and the urge to claw his damn eyes out. He stops. “It’s about time you realized you’re better than all this,” he says over his shoulder, and disappears down the hallway, the same hallway where a moment ago I was planning our future.

I back away from his retreating figure, my chest heaving and mind in a tailspin. A windowed wall meets my back and I slide down it until my ass hits the floor, pulling my knees into me. The tears have won the battle and are now spilling silently over my cheeks, sobs quaking in my chest. I feel so small sitting there in his damned mansion by the sea, I want to evaporate. Why did I ever think I could trust him? I bury my head in my hands and shake my head back and forth to try to make the bad things go away. This is why I don’t do love. It always ends up hurting.

How could he be so Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? Making sweet love to me one moment and making me feel like a piece of shit the next? As if I need anyone to do that. I’m doing just fine with that all by myself.

The sun is sinking lower, darkening the room and my thoughts. How could I ever think for one moment this is where I belong? I’m not Hollywood royalty. I’m a Hollywood reject. And suddenly, all I want is out of here.

I pull my fancy Devon phone from my pocket and open the web browser to call a cab. TMI is the homepage for my internet and when it loads, I drop the phone.

Rumor has it HeaVon spent the morning making up for lost time.
They couldn’t keep their hands off each other while enjoying the sunrise outside their spectacular seaside love nest.
Who knew sunrises could be so hot?

My heart swells and lodges somewhere midway up my esophagus, choking the breath out of me. It’s not HeaVon the world can’t get enough of—it’s
us
.

Five minutes later, I’m waiting impatiently when Devon steps from the shower, wrapping a towel around his wet nakedness. I can’t even be bothered to enjoy the show.

“Carly, I’m sorry...” He starts to apologize, dragging a hand through his dark gray hair. When the pallid color of my tear-streaked face registers in his mind he stops and rushes to my side. “What?” He’s shaking his head with a dumbfounded expression. I press the button that brings my phone to life and hand it to him.

“Fuck!”

* * *

One hand is crossed tightly over his chest. The other has a white-knuckle grip on his phone. I hear nothing but mumbles through the glass porch door, but I’m pretty sure Devon just said “Fuck you, Heather,” if my lipreading is worth a damn. He’s on a three-way call with his agent and Heather deciding how they’ll spin this story.

I startle when Devon throws the phone to the porch floor and slaps his hands over his face, muffling a shout. This can’t be good. He rips open the door, storms into the room and falls into a chair opposite my perch on the couch. He’s red. He’s rigid. He’s beyond pissed. I set my cup of tea on the coffee table and give him my full attention.

“Will you stay the week?” He stares at the floor, dragging a hand through his hair. I nod slowly, shocked that he still wants me here. His face is pinched into an angry question mark when his head shoots up. I quickly nod again, realizing he hasn’t seen my answer.

“You still want me?” I can’t believe what he’s asking.

“Of course I do.” He looks bewildered, pauses, then winces, remembering the fight we were in when the story broke. “Carly...” My name slips past his lips in one exasperated huff. He’s searching for the right words. “Sorry I was hard on you earlier. You have so much potential, and you aren’t using one-tenth of it. That’s all.” An hour ago, I would’ve told him to fuck off. After everything that’s happened, this is more than enough apology.

“Heather’s agreed to let you stay the week on the condition that you always wear the wig and sunglasses when you’re outside.”

“That’s nice of her.” I snort, annoyed by how easily she gets her way.

“Nice? She’s a fucking bitch. Everything’s about money with Heather.” He sucks air through his teeth and fingers a hole in the worn jeans he hurriedly pulled on after his shower. I can’t stand seeing him broken.

“What’d she want for this?” I pull the blanket from around my shoulders and pat the couch beside me. Slowly, he rises from the chair and comes to sit beside me.

“The Hamptons house she’s recovering in. Conveniently, it’s on the market.” He tosses his phone onto the coffee table and nestles into my side.

“What?” I bolt upright on the couch, pushing him away. “No way, Devon. It’s not worth it. I’ll just leave.” I stammer, because I can’t believe this is something he’s actually considering. A Hamptons house for this? The bitch is certifiable.

“It’s not you being here.” He sits forward on the couch, shoulders hunched forward.

“What is it then?”

“It’s me
wanting
you here.” He turns his dark gaze back to me. I grit my teeth.

“Just tell her to fuck off.” I sweep my hand dramatically to the side, wondering why in the hell I’m the only one seeing this solution. He should’ve left her ass a long time ago.

“She’d never let me see Angel.”

“She can’t do that. You guys are common law by now. She’d have to share custody.”

“Angel isn’t mine. It only takes a test to prove that.”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s been just as unfaithful as you have. No judge would take her side.”

“It’s not that simple, Carly.”

“Then what the fuck is keeping you here?” I throw my arms wide, looking all around. I don’t get it. I never have. How can this woman have so much control? He shakes his head like he can’t answer a simple question. Bullshit. I cross my arms and lean back.

“I’ve made one colossal mistake in life.” He stands and stalks away. “Heather was there when the mistake was made. I leave and her silence is no longer guaranteed.” He leans heavily against a table, hands splayed over its top.

“So she gets everything and leaves you with nothing?”

Devon shrugs without looking up. “No, not nothing. I’ve got my career.”

“Pfft!” Does he actually hear the words coming out of his mouth? “That’s blackmail, or extortion, and I’m pretty sure it’s illegal. Even in this town.”

He shakes his head. “In this town, it’s called a showmance. We’ve both benefited. My life would’ve continued just fine.” He hesitates, as though there’s more he wants to say. He looks up. Our eyes meet. “Had I not met you.”

I hang on every word, filled to the point of bursting. Rage flows out of me. Elation seeps in. Somehow, I’ve pierced his impenetrable walls. I matter to him. So much so that his life will never be the same. It’s everything a woman wants her lover to say. This is the moment our happily ever after should begin. But ours isn’t a Hollywood love story.

“Just leave her.” My jaw trembles and tears sting my eyes. I shouldn’t have to tell him this. He should already know.

His gaze falls to the floor. He rubs his palms together and stares out over the ocean. “I want you in my life, Carly. More than I ever thought I would.” He pushes off the table so hard it clatters against the wall. Silently, I watch him pour a scotch, knowing he’s not finished. With drink in hand, he turns, swirling the ice. “I’ve never lied to you. You knew our relationship came with limitations.” He licks his lip, bites it and studies his drink. “Is it going to be enough for you?”

Will it be enough? Having the love of a man who can never give me everything? It’s an impossible answer. I need a drink. I settle for a cigarette. Fumbling in my pack, I step onto the porch, expecting him to follow. Only he doesn’t. I watch his back disappear through the doorway. I’m left alone in the evening light to make the biggest decision of my life.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“I’ll help you with the clinic,” I say over black coffee the next morning. This solves nothing, but it buys me time to figure out what I want.

“You don’t have to do that,” Devon answers, sliding his finger down the iPad screen to continue reading a news story.

We’re lounging around the counter of his outdoor kitchen, basking in soft morning sunshine. We haven’t talked about it. We won’t talk about it because there’s nothing more to say. It comes down to this—I either leave him, or love him the only way I can. Those are the options he’s given me.

“No, I want to.” I nod my head to convince myself. An ivory silk bathrobe covers my nakedness. It hangs open in front, exposing plenty of cleavage and thigh.

Devon is shirtless and perfect. His mesh running shorts hang low enough to reveal my favorite V, starting at his hip bones and pointing to one of my other favorite things about him. We didn’t make love last night. Our emotions were too raw. Instead, he held me, and it was everything. Further solidifying the fact that he could drag me through hell and I’d still choose to stay.

“I’d really like that.” He looks up from the screen to smile at me and take another sip of coffee. He’s so hot like this. All natural, skin still flushed and damp from his run, hair hanging in messy dark gray strands, rimless glasses magnifying his blue eyes. He’s all that matters to me. We are all that matters. I can find a way to be happy. For now.

“So, what do I have to do?” I pull a barstool to the stone island so I can be near him and prop my chin in my hand. He’s standing, stretching his legs as he reads and drinks coffee.

“Show up to the fundraising gala looking gorgeous and share your recovery story.” He clicks the iPad off and turns, mirroring me so we are inches from each other.

“That’s it?” I ask, wrinkling my face and feeling like a total bitch for overreacting yesterday.

“That’s it,” he repeats. “Unless you want to get involved with peer counseling. It’s always good to have people who’ve lived through it share their experience.” He reaches out and rubs his hands over mine. “I think you’d be great at that.” I watch our hands on the white stone counter. He raises them to his lips and plants a kiss on the back of mine.

“So, what would you like to do today?” he asks, breaking away and retrieving the coffeepot to refill our cups. I take a deep breath, stretching and yawning and loving how the ocean glimmers in morning sun.

“Heather doesn’t care if we go out?” I ask.

“As long as you’re in character.” He shrugs. “And as long as we’re careful. We can’t do dinner at Nobu, but we certainly don’t have to be hermits.”

“Hmm...” I study him in a naughty way.

* * *

We’re hiking through Solstice Canyon, me sweating like a day laborer under this damned black wig, Devon leading the way and Tiny a few paces behind carrying a backpack filled with our picnic. Devon’s grin is annoyingly amused when he notices the copious sweat pouring down my brow.

First of all, I don’t work out. I’m twenty years old with a borderline eating disorder. My body is naturally this awesome. Second, this damn wig makes me hotter than a whore in church. Which makes it impossible to keep the ridiculous sunglasses from sliding off my nose. Third, no one hikes in harlot-red lipstick. And forth? Heather Troy doesn’t have the strength to finish a sandwich, let alone hike a trail.

“You want to take a break?” he says, looking at the sweaty mess I’m becoming.

“Hell, yes,” I pant.

He takes my hand and leads me to a little picnic bench set a ways off the trail. It’s really secluded, surrounded by towering alder and sycamore trees. It’s super shady and refreshingly cool. I reach for the wig.

“Uh-uh.” Devon grabs my hand. I growl, but it does no good.

Tiny falls into place guarding the trail opening, and I sprawl out on the cement tabletop, needing relief from the cool stone.

“Um...you do look good enough to eat,” Devon says, sitting down on the bench to my left. I chuckle and he leans down to kiss me behind the ear, licking at a line of sweat running down my neck. Too bad I’m too damned hot and exhausted to push it further. Ever since our first real sex scene, I’ve been way too turned on by the thought of having an audience when I’m with Devon. A public place like this flips on my exhibitionistic side like a light.

I sigh deeply, loving the way his fingers feel tracing along my neck, his cool breath blowing gently over my throat. He slowly lifts my shirt. A soft stream of refreshingly cool air wafts over my belly.

“You are so beautiful,” he says, kissing my neck again. His hand finds me and I relax totally, breathing deeply and wishing we could stay like this forever.

“Devon?” I ask, eyes still closed.

“Yes?”

“Why did you invite me to your island?” I roll my wigged head to face him, watching his expression as he searches for an answer. His lips press to a thin line as he studies his fingers trailing across my sticky abdomen.

“Because you gave me such a warm greeting on set that first day.” He smiles at the memory, playfully tracing around my navel. I cringe. I was such a bitch to him. But that was before I knew Devon Hayes isn’t really real.

He chuckles when I facepalm in dramatic agony, and leans down to plant a gentle kiss beside his fingers.

“I loved how brash and bold you were. No one talks to me like that.” He bites his lip. “Actually, I thought you needed a good spanking.” He laughs, pushing his sunglasses on top of his gray hair so I can see exactly how appealing the idea is to him. I swing a playfully appalled punch at his shoulder. He ducks to avoid it with a grin. But his eyes quickly get serious again, the skin wrinkling along his brow.

“You felt real to me. That’s a rare thing.” He says this with a tiny shrug. I smile sheepishly. “I didn’t want to cross the line with you. I tried to keep it professional. But there’s something about you I can’t resist.” He traces his fingers down my cheek, making me flush even hotter. “And now?” He shakes his head in a shy way. “I’ve never wanted anything like I want you. Despite the million reason I shouldn’t, I do. I need you, Carly. More than anything.”

Boom. The words I’ve been waiting to hear from this man forever. He needs me. I always knew he did.

I’m leaning forward, hanging on his every word. He reaches for the huge black glasses, pulling them from my face. “You—” he pauses “—are the only ray of sunshine that’s made it into my world in forever.”

I nod, transfixed by the words pouring from his lips. I don’t even want to kiss him right now. Because that would shut him up. And his words washing over my body are hotter than any orgasm. With Devon? That’s saying a lot.

“Mmm-hmm,” I mumble dumbly, as if he’s hypnotized me. He flinches and pulls away.

“That’s all I get?” He’s laughing to play it off, but I know he needs this from me, too. I know the man behind Devon Hayes needs to be loved just as much as the little girl hiding behind Carly Klein. I look at his hand resting on my knee, not really having to think about his answer, but slightly terrified to say it out loud.

“You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like I’m better than my past.” My eyes don’t leave his hand. It curls around my chin and turns me to face him. “You believe in me. I believe in us.”

“I’ve never known anyone like you, Carly. You’re not afraid to let your honesty cut right through all the bullshit in our world.” He leans up and kisses me. Not a sexy let-me-fuck-your-brains-out kiss. It’s slow and soft and gentle.

But my insides are twisted into such a hot mess by this man I can’t even think straight. I want sex right now, whether he does or not. So I push the kiss deeper, harder, and wrap my body around him. He stands and I grab even more of him in my legs.

“Carly,” he chastises against my lips. “Here?”

“Here.” My answer is muffled by our kiss, but he doesn’t protest again.

Instead he takes off his windbreaker and spreads it over the tabletop beside me as he walks around to the end. I quickly swing my legs around and scooch down to meet him, already pulling at the elastic waistband of my shorts. They’re down to my knees by the time I land on his jacket, and my insides clench with the thrill of being caught. Of the whole world knowing that Devon wants to fuck me. He grabs my shorts and pulls them the rest of the way over one foot, leaving them dangling from the other.

His fingers disappear between my legs. I arch away from him and moan. Our heads turn to Tiny, who is on his phone and standing like a sentry at the opening between two trees, his back to us. This campsite is secluded enough to be our own private outdoor bedroom.

I fling the shorts off my foot, loving how exposed and dangerous it all feels. All of me is bared to the world, but only meant for Devon. Sunshine warms parts of me it never sees and a breeze blows over my bare ass. The cool cement and windbreaker beneath my nakedness make me tremble with icy fear and excitement. Much to my surprise and his delight, Devon’s fingers are soaking wet when he pulls them away.

He settles in between my legs, pushing them wider, running his lips along my neck and up to my ear.

“I love how much you want me,” he whispers hot in my ear, bringing his fingers up and sliding them into his mouth so I can hear him suck on the taste of me. He groans with delight and tremors of pleasure race down my neck, over my breasts to my belly and straight down. I pull the hard length of him, still trapped behind mesh workout shorts, into me, needing something to grind against. He chuckles.

I run my fingers between the hard muscles of his stomach and the gathered fabric at his waist, pulling the front of his shorts and boxers over the soft fleshy girth of him in one move.

His dick springs free like a jack-in-the-box.

Hungrily, I grab the tip and find my center, pulling it into me, grinding my hips as it slicks over my clit. His arms circle my shoulders, coaxing me back to the table. Lying back, I trace my hands over my breasts, pulling at my nipples. He grunts hungrily.

Devon takes my hips and settles me onto his erection. Slowly pushing deep into my pink walls. He fills me. My back scrapes against the cement when he finds his rhythm inside me.

My muscles contract, pushed past their limit as he forces his way in, and then relax around him, sucking him deeper. I take the length of him in until there’s no room left, moaning with the primal pleasure this unleashes. My insides grab onto him, never wanting to let go.

He leans over, covering my body with his, and starts the slow, gentle motion of loving me.