Lucky Star: A Hollywood Love Story (11 page)

Now I knew Cameron had had his own struggles that day, his love for me locked away in the safety of his heart. I looked down at the phone in my hand, seeing the photograph in an entirely new light,
all
of our interactions for the last several months in a whole new way. My lips hitched up in a sad, rueful smile. We’d wasted so much time.

My thoughts back in the present, I read the text accompanying the photo. 

Cameron:
The pleasure of your company is requested tomorrow at noon to celebrate the engagement of Cameron Scott and Sarah Travers. Bring all the booze you have because the party starts at noon!”

As I read the words reality crashed over me and I started shaking. My eyes welled with tears that soon cascaded down my face in streaming rivulets as a sob broke free from my mouth. It was real.
We
were real. Cameron had just told all of our friends we were getting married. He picked me up like I weighed nothing and sat me in his lap, hugging me to his body while I released all the pent up emotions I’d been holding in for as long as I could remember. All the heartache, the secrets, and unfulfilled desires were nothing compared to the sheer joy and unabashed happiness I felt now.

Cameron pushed my hair off my face and wiped away my tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Shhh … don’t cry sweetheart.” He kissed my forehead and brought my face to rest against his chest while he rocked me back and forth. In the background, our phones dinged, likely angry responses that Cameron had texted them this early. The congratulations would come later.

When I had cried myself dry, I wiped my face, hugged Cameron quickly, and climbed from his lap. My face was a red, splotchy mess but I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop smiling. “It looks like we’re throwing a party so we better go shopping.”

The clock read 4 a.m. which meant both Whole Foods and Gelson’s were still closed, but this wasn’t the first time I’d needed to make a grocery run after the sun had gone down or before it’d come back up. The Ralph’s on Sunset, open 24 hours for all your middle-of-the-night needs, would have everything we’d need to feed our friends. We were sure to encounter a veritable who’s who of weirdoes at this time of the morning, but that was Hollywood for you.

“But first I need to shower.”

There was absolutely no way I was leaving the house in my current state. Images of our lovemaking came back to me, snippets of our bodies coming together in ecstasy, Cameron’s face taut as he loomed over me, coming inside of me, crying out my name as he climaxed. I blushed and felt a wicked heat crawl up my body that had nothing to do with the temperature in my bedroom. I turned to walk into the bathroom – intent on taking a cold shower – but before I could reach the doorway, Cameron was behind me, wrapping his arms around my middle and kissing the back of my neck where it met the slope of my back. “Come back to bed,” he whispered in my ear. “First we need to celebrate, Mrs. Scott.”

His words sent a tremor through me, the knowledge that someday soon I would indeed be his wife. Mrs. Cameron Scott. Sarah Travers Scott. Sarah Scott.

Yes, we had a lot to celebrate.

I leaned into his body and felt his erection, already hard and wanting, press against me. How he had it in him to make love to me so soon I didn’t know but I wasn’t going to question my good fortune. After all, not every woman got to marry a man who fulfilled all of her wildest fantasies. And we were just getting started.

Two hours later we walked through the store picking up provisions for the party. To my utter delight, Cameron seemed unable to keep himself from touching me. When our trip began to take longer than it should have because he needed me within an arm’s reach at all times, I recommended we split up and he rolled his eyes and told me that wasn’t going to happen.

“Stay with me.” He brought my hand up to his mouth and placed a kiss across my knuckles that looked innocent to anyone who might have been watching the interaction, but when his tongue darted out and licked me, felt anything but innocent.

“I’m not going anywhere. Just to aisle three for salsa.”

“I’ll go with you then.” He pulled me against him, back to front, before kissing his way across my exposed neck.

“We’d get a lot more done if you stuck to your list and I stuck to mine.”

“I’d like to be stuck to you.” He waggled his brows and grinned.

“Yes, that’s more than obvious,” I said, running my hand down his thigh to find him rock hard. “Aren’t you the least bit embarrassed to be traipsing through Ralph’s with an epic erection?”

“Nope,” he responded with absolutely no shame as he moved my hand to cup him.

There was no one in the aisle with us but there
were
security cameras in the store and I didn’t plan on giving them a naughty show. I squeezed him through his jeans and dragged my hand away but instead of letting me go, Cameron pulled me closer – if that was at all possible – and rested his chin on my shoulder and whispered into my ear, “I never thought the grocery store a particularly sexy place, but I can’t help thinking about all the dirty, kinky things I want to do to you. The strawberries and sparkling wine in our cart feature prominently.” He nipped my neck and dragged his tongue over the spot to soothe the sting of his teeth.

I smiled and tilted my head to give him better access. When he sucked the skin of my shoulder into his mouth, my whole body trembled. It was a good thing he had such a tight hold on me because my knees were moments away from giving out.

“I’m more than happy to indulge those fantasies, but not here. Go get the chips.” There was absolutely no conviction in my voice, and my body betrayed me when my ass wiggled involuntarily against his hard length. Our bodies were separated by denim and cotton but I swore I could feel him pulse between my cheeks, resting tantalizingly close to that spot no man had ever touched. He canted his hips toward me, just enough to remind me of his presence at my rear, and the delicious friction made me see stars. I’d never wanted it like that, but if he could feel this good against me with our clothes on, I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like naked to have him there.

“If you keep doing that,” he whispered, “I’m going to have to drag you to the car and fuck you senseless.”

Rolling my bottom lip between my teeth, something I’d quickly learned drove him absolutely crazy, I glanced over my shoulder and rubbed up against him. “You promise?”

He let out a pained moan. “Damn you,” he laughed and stepped away. “You called my bluff.”

I shrugged and walked to the end of the aisle, Cameron trailing in my wake. I might have called his bluff but I wasn’t sure that I wanted to. I missed the feel of him against me, grinding in to me. Public sex in a parking lot didn’t sound so bad right about now. After all, it wasn’t as if we had a problem going at each other in the car. In fact, once the awkward fumbling to remove our clothes was over, we were actually quite good at it. Still, a deserted parking lot at the beach was a much different prospect than a sparsely populated city one.

While a night of drunken sex and then amazing make-up sex had tipped the scales, I hadn’t anticipated how blatantly sexual and proprietary Cameron would be toward me. In the normal course of things, he wasn’t what you’d describe as an alpha male so this more assertive side of him was surprising. Damn sexy too, especially since I’d seen him with other women and he’d never acted this way toward them. This was a whole new side of him I’d had no idea existed.

Back when John Mayer had discussed Jessica Simpson with
Playboy
, I found the interview sexist and repugnant, but now I totally understood at least one of points. Cameron was, to quote Meyer, sexual napalm who had the power to burn me to the ground. I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to it.

Three hundred dollars later, we were driving to my house in the Hills, Cameron’s left hand glued to my thigh as we drove in relative silence. I probably should have been tired – lord knew my body was exhausted – but I was too keyed up to even think of resting despite only sleeping for a couple of hours last night. Later, while I prepped food for the party, Cameron read through the responses his earlier text had generated. I’d glanced at the first batch but hadn’t had an opportunity to read through the rest.

“Carly says she always knew there was something going on between us.”

I heard, rather than saw, his smile. “Well, I’m glad
she
knew because I certainly didn’t,” I said over my shoulder as I tossed a dozen chicken thighs in a Greek marinade.

“And Mike sends his condolences for having to deal with me for the rest of your life.”

“Mike would know.” I laughed as I washed my hands and turned to lean against the counter. Mike and Cameron had grown up together and had been intermittent roommates since moving to L.A. fourteen years ago. If any two people knew each other’s living habits it was them.

“Justin says I’m a lucky man.”

“You are.”

“Jennifer says you’re a lucky girl.”

“I am.”

As he scrolled through other messages, I wondered if he’d kept his love for me a secret. Had any of his friends known about his feelings? Had anyone other than Carly suspected?

“Did Mike know?” I blurted, taking a couple of steps across the kitchen to stand across from him.

He looked up and smirked. “Of course.” Setting the phone down, he reached across to take my hand. “Two months ago he told me I was going to lose you if I didn’t say something.” He squeezed and my heart constricted.

“Did he …” I started, hating to bring it up, but doing so anyway. “Did he know about what happened before?”

He glanced down at our joined hands and rubbed his thumb across my knuckles. “Yes.” He looked up and our eyes locked. “He said I was a fool who needed to grovel at your feet.” He took a deep breath as if to gather courage to say more, but I decided I didn’t want to talk about it any longer. There was no use dredging up those memories since it’d only hurt both of us. I resolved to keep it in the past since we had so much happiness in our future to look forward to.

“And look how well groveling worked,” I responded breezily, canting the top of my body across the counter to kiss him. As I approached, the sadness left his eyes and his brow relaxed, the lines of consternation retreating.

“Thank you for forgiving me,” he said, not letting the subject drop.

“What’s done is done.” I kissed the tip of his nose. “We can dwell on it, gnash our teeth, or we can accept it happened and led us to where we are today.”

“I know but …” he trailed off and I got the impression he had more to say but didn’t quite know how to express his thoughts.

I don’t know when it had happened – probably when he’d asked me to marry him – but I legitimately wasn’t angry at him anymore. I still suffered a twinge of hurt and regret and yeah, I’d always remember the pain of him walking out on me and then the sense of abandonment I felt in the ensuing month, but I figured if I had to endure all that in order for us to be sitting here planning our engagement party, I was willing to accept that month in exchange.

Making may way out of my u-shaped kitchen to stand behind him, I wrapped my arms around his torso and rested my cheek against his back, my arms locked against his tight abs. “Listen up because I’m only going to say this once. I don’t want to hear you apologize for that night ever again.”

“But—”

“No more ‘buts’ Cameron. What’s done is done. I’m fine.” As I spoke I knew my words to be one hundred percent true. I
was
fine. It was amazing how a man asking you to marry him went a long way to abolish doubt, no?

He turned so we faced one another and I stepped into the space he’d created between his thighs. When he wrapped his strong arms around I rested my cheek against his chest and listened to the steady thump of his heart. I felt a measure of peace in that sound, and as if I’d found my home in his arms. We stood that way for several minutes, the warmth of our bodies seeping in to each other, the sounds of our breathing and heartbeats blending in a perfect rhythm.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He dropped a kiss on top of my head as his hands caressed my back.

“I am,” I mumbled, laughter lacing my words. I felt his chest rumble under my cheek.

“What time is it?” I asked, finally overcome with exhaustion.

“The clock on your microwave says 7 a.m., so 6:45.”

(Yes, I set all of my clocks ahead hoping it would help with my chronic lateness. I’ll let you know when it works.) I took a deep breath that came out in a yawn. “I think I’m going to take a nap for a couple of hours.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

As we walked from the kitchen to the bedroom, two thoughts jumped into my head, knocking away my sleepiness.

First, Cameron hadn’t gone back to his place once since we’d gotten back from Zuma which meant the only clean clothes he had here were random ones that had accumulated over the years. I glanced back over my shoulder as we shuffled like zombies across the room. Yup, still wearing his jeans from Friday and his shirt was a ratty one that’d been in my bottom drawer for over a year.

My second and more important realization was that we
still
hadn’t talked about the movie and now that I had a moment of quiet, I was concerned about his obvious evasion. I’d tried to raise the topic a few times only for him to change the subject. I felt guilty that I’d let him, that I
continued
letting him because now wasn’t a good time to broach the subject either, but I desperately wanted him to share with me what he was afraid of. Because that’s what I thought it was: fear. Cornering someone and forcing them to discuss their fears was a sure recipe for disaster, and with Cameron being prone to running when the going got tough, I didn’t want to push those buttons.

In the bathroom, I removed my jewelry and brushed my teeth. Here’s a weird quirk about me most people don’t know: if I’m going to sleep, even if it’s just a short nap, I absolutely have to brush my teeth. I cannot go to bed with stank mouth; bad breath is like kryptonite to me. Funnily enough, Cameron has known this about me for years and has never teased me about it. Now he pulled out the toothbrush I’d given him and brushed his teeth at the same time. I stole quick, furtive glances at him in the mirror, still caught off guard by his presence in my house … in my life.

As we went about my sleepy-time ritual with silly toothpaste grins on our face, I was grateful for the dual vanities in my bathroom, silently thankful to my mom for insisting on the feature when I’d gone house hunting with her. At the time I’d abhorred her constant harping about the lack of a man in my life and her telling me that when I
did
manage to snag a man, I’d understand why she’d insisted on a place with two sinks. It pained me to admit she’d been right. There was no way in hell I’d ever tell her so however.