Lovestruck Forever (25 page)

“You’ll
be up all night. Not that I couldn’t think of a few things we
could do to keep ourselves occupied.”

I
grinned around the empty flat, wishing he were there. “What’s
the shoot like today? Will you be out very late?”

“It
shouldn’t be too bad. And I have the entire day off tomorrow,
so we can spend some time together.”

“That
sounds nice.”

“I
figure we’ll stay in bed all day,” he continued
confidently.

“You
have a lot of faith in your bedroom prowess,” I pointed out,
and he made a sound of mock outrage. “Besides, I thought we
were looking at houses tomorrow?”

“We
are. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t rather ravish you
for hours.”

“That
sounds rather exhausting, dear.” I sighed. “You should
get back to work,” I told him, though I would have been happy
to continue this teasing for hours.

“Yeah,
they’re going to call me in a few minutes, and I need to review
the scene.”

“Go
work. I’ll see you soon.”

“Lizzie,
if you leave the flat, I want you to take security.”

“Thomas—”

“Please
don’t argue. I’ll have Heidi call you and arrange it,
okay?”

Not
in the mood to fight, I decided to let it go. “Fine.”

“Thank
you, love. I’m glad you’re home.”

“Have
a good day. Love you.”

After
we hung up, I wandered to the kitchen, thinking some food might help
me wake up. Thomas’s fridge was empty, however; a common
occurrence when he was working too much and eating on the set. I had
told him there were grocery delivery services, but he insisted that
would make him feel too weird. “Groceries are where I draw the
line, Lizzie. Paying someone to buy my bloody Weetabix would make me
feel like I’m completely useless. I’m not that much of a
wanker yet.”

“Who’s
the wanker now?” I muttered, shutting the fridge. “I’m
starving.”

Figuring
I wouldn’t be able to resist the bed for long if I stayed here,
I decided I may as well shower and get out of the flat. Maybe a
little London air would invigorate me. Besides, there was food out
there.

An
hour later, I was showered, dressed, and waiting in the sitting room
for the bodyguards to show up. My stomach was growling by now, making
me grumpier by the moment. The fact that a quick look out the window
revealed the reporters still there further annoyed me. I had spent
more time than normal on my hair and makeup, just in case, but I
still really didn’t want to face them again.

The
buzzer went off, and I grabbed my purse before running to the
intercom. “Yes?”

“Your
ride is here, Miss Medina.”

“Thanks,
Ted.”

I
quickly slipped into my black ballet flats and headed out the door,
carefully locking it behind me. The security guys Heidi had sent were
the same ones we’d had the last time in London. They
re-introduced themselves as Roy and Joe before opening the door for
me. Roy walked a foot ahead, keeping the reporters to the side, while
Joe brought up the rear. I saw more flashes go off, heard more
questions shouted, but this time, I merely smiled behind my
sunglasses and walked straight for the car, not needing to stay on
their good side now that I had some backup.

“Where
to, Miss Medina?” Roy asked once we were settled in the
non-descript black sedan.

“Uh…
How about Harrods.” I could have some breakfast in one of the
restaurants and shop a little. If Harrods couldn’t wake me up,
I wasn’t sure anywhere could.

“Harrods
it is.”

The
iconic department store was bustling, as usual. I enjoyed a leisurely
brunch while reading the paperback I’d neglected on the plane.
Roy and Joe kept a comfortable distance. I felt a little more than
silly having them there. After we’d left the flat, I hadn’t
seen a single photographer. Not one of my fellow diners gave me a
second glance. The fact that they could have stayed home and saved
themselves the trouble made me feel embarrassed. On the other hand, I
took great comfort in the living proof that I really was a nobody
after all.

Finished
with my food, I paid my bill and headed to the escalator. Harrods was
a fantastic place to window shop—the size and the variety of
goods was enough to keep me busy for hours. I decided to start
upstairs and make my way down. Unsurprisingly, my favorite sections
were the food-based ones on the ground floor. I would save the room
after room of teas, chocolates, pastries, and other assorted goodies
for last.

I
made my way through shoes, purses, clothes, and was just entering the
designer sunglass section when I heard someone call my name.

“Lizzie?
Lizzie Medina?”

I
spun around, surprised. Who did I know in London that wouldn’t
be at work right now? A man was standing across the room, half-hidden
by the display of Prada sunglasses. I recognized him immediately—he
was, after all, the most famous movie star in the world.

“Jackson!
What are you doing here?”

He
crossed the room quickly and immediately pulled me into a hug. I
allowed myself a smile against his shoulder. Just like Jackson
Coles—always dramatic, always the center of attention. In fact,
several shoppers had stopped what they were doing to stare at us.

“It’s
good to see you,” he said, pulling back but not releasing my
arms. Instead, he held onto me as he looked me over, inspecting me
just like my aunts always did. “You look amazing. Being engaged
must agree with you.”

“Thank
you.”

“I’m
a little annoyed I had to find out from the media, Lizzie. What
gives?”

“We
were trying to keep it quiet for as long as possible.”

He
raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, looking exactly like his character
in the
Darkness
movies. “And you didn’t think I was to be trusted?”

I
laughed. “Sorry, Jackson.”

A
man behind us cleared his throat, causing Jackson to quickly release
me and look over his shoulder. The throat clearer was tall, bald, and
dressed in jeans and a dark suit coat. He nodded once in Jackson’s
direction. “Mr. Coles, we’re attracting attention. We
should probably move.”

It
took me a moment to realize that the man was probably Jackson’s
security, that my own security was hovering only a few feet away.
This was an aspect of celebrity that I still hadn’t gotten used
to, the constant need for a bodyguard or extensive entourage. We
hadn’t needed regular security until Thomas took the role in
Journey
and the engagement rumors started. Even living in L.A., when Thomas
and I would go out, we generally just tried to keep a low profile
unless it was a public appearance. I guessed, for someone like
Jackson Coles, everyday was a public appearance.

Behind
Jackson’s security guy, Roy also cleared his throat and I
frowned. Was that the direction Thomas and I were heading in? Where
you couldn’t even go shopping without planning ahead with your
entourage?

“Do
you have a minute?” Jackson asked, turning back to me. “I’d
love to catch up.”

“Uh,”
I said uncertainly, looking down at my watch. The truth was, I had
nowhere to be any time soon. But I wasn’t entirely sure I
wanted to commit myself to one-on-one time with Jackson. In my
experience, he was easiest to take in small doses.

“Come
on, Lizzie.” He tugged on my arm, giving me that million-dollar
movie star smile. I could practically hear the women in the general
area swoon. Speaking of which, I was noticing a lot of eyes on us at
that moment, a prospect I wasn’t entirely comfortable with.

“What
do you have in mind?”

His
smile somehow grew even larger as he took my arm. “Come on.”

***

Five
minutes later, I found myself in a teashop a half block from Harrods.
Jackson was continuing to attract attention, but I knew that was par
for the course for him and tried my best to ignore it.

“Lola
tells me she saw you two in California last month.” Jackson was
leaning over the table, those golden eyes intent on mine.

I
couldn’t help but grimace at her name. “Yup. It was yet
another lovely meeting to add to my memories of her.”

Jackson
laughed. “She’s really not that bad, once you get to know
her.”

I
stared at him, sure he must be joking. When he didn’t shout,
“Syke!” I shook my head. “I’ll take your word
for it.”

“She’s
terribly insecure, Lizzie. And you make her remember all the reasons
why.”

I
barked out a laugh. “Are you joking? She’s a freaking
movie star, Jackson. She was listed in
People’s
Fifty Most Beautiful. Are you seriously asking me to believe that I
make her insecure?”

He
shrugged. “Being a movie star doesn’t mean you can’t
be insecure. In fact, sometimes I think it’s a pre-requisite.
Normal people generally don’t stand up and demand every ounce
of the room’s attention.” He winked at me. “I think
some insecurity is inherent in the job description.”

“Thomas
isn’t insecure,” I said, trying not to think of how down
he’d gotten in L.A. when he realized he was the only guy on the
set without a six-pack.
But
he was self-aware enough to know that was stupid
,
I reminded myself.

“And
that, right there, is why you make her insecure,” Jackson said,
pointing at me with a satisfied smile. “Because Thomas isn’t
like the rest of us. He’s always been too good for our parties,
too good to hang out with our crowd.” He caught sight of my
face and hurried on. “I don’t mean that in a bad way.
He’s not a snob. He just…he was clearly never interested
in flaunting himself the way the rest of us were.”

“And
that makes her insecure?”

Jackson
shrugged. “I think it makes her wonder what he has that she
doesn’t, to give him that kind of confidence. And then you came
along.”

I
raised my eyebrows, waiting for him to go on.

“And
it’s so obvious, Lizzie, that you don’t give a shit about
what any of us think.”

I
squirmed in my seat, uncomfortable. “That’s not true.”

He
laughed again. “Of course it is. You think Thomas never told
anyone how you made it through the entire first act of my play
without even knowing who he was the night you met? He thought it was
adorable.”

Under
the table, I crossed my fingers that Thomas hadn’t also told
them I’d spent an hour making fun of Jackson’s
performance in that play, not realizing until the lights of the
theater came up that Jackson was his co-star.

But
Jackson was still going on, apparently oblivious to the blush
spreading up my neck. “And every time you happen to be in the
room with any of us, it’s obvious you’re not impressed in
the least bit.” He winked at me. “Sometimes you even look
bored. It drives Lola crazy. She’s used to everyone falling at
her feet as soon as she opens her mouth. You never even asked her for
an autograph.”

I
stared at him, disbelieving. “And if I had, she would have been
nice to me?”

“Probably
not. More than likely, she would have judged you for being a
hanger-on.”

I
threw up my hands. “So I can’t win with her.”

Our
tea arrived and he gave the waitress a smooth-as-silk smile as he
took his cup. “Of course not. Lola is totally a bitch. All I’m
saying is that it’s easier to deal with her when you understand
why.”

I
laughed, not knowing if I should find this amusing or depressing. But
Jackson was smiling at me across the table, and it was hard to be
annoyed by him when he had that little boy look in his eyes—like
he was so proud of himself for making me laugh.

“So
you just have everyone figured out, huh?”

He
nodded seriously. “I’m a scholar of the human condition.
It’s integral to my art.” I remembered Annie and Thomas
talking about actors who used the word “art” to describe
their work and had to hide my snort behind my tea.

“Enough
about Lola and the psyche of actors. Tell me about the wedding.”

“We’re
getting married in Detroit.” I took a sip of my tea, grateful
to be back in London. I had grown used to their milky tea and missed
it now whenever I was home. “At my family’s church.”

“Wait,
you’re getting married in Detroit? I thought I heard you were
getting married here?”

I
shook my head. “We discussed it, but decided to get married
where my family was.”

Jackson
frowned. “I swear I heard it was here. Wasn’t there a
picture of Thomas at a flower shop last week?”

I
shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t keep up with your
tabloids.”

He
snickered. “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking
about.”

I
didn’t respond, taking another sip of my tea.

“Okay,
so the wedding’s back in the States. What about after that?
Have you decided where to live?”

“We’re
actually house hunting tomorrow.” I felt a stirring of
excitement. I’d been so tired all day that I hadn’t
thought much about the weekend plans.

“In
London?”

I
nodded and he gave me an exasperated expression. “You should
have told me. I just bought a new place, I’m a complete real
estate expert right now.”

I
didn’t mention that I doubted our taste would be very similar
to his. I’d been to Jackson’s old house only once, for a
celebrity-filled party that I’d found tedious. His place took
up three floors of an abandoned warehouse. Polished concrete, chrome,
and white leather filled every room. I remembered searching in vain
for a chair that wasn’t some architectural statement piece, not
really in the mood to try to balance on an egg-shaped pod chair with
only two legs.

He
surprised me, however, by rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Harper
will probably want something more classic, I’d assume.”

“Probably.
He usually gets grumpy when things are too modern.”