Nothing Like Love (3 page)

“I couldn’t help noticing that the set isn’t the only thing Zach liked,” Norbert commented.

Simone frowned at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smiled. “I saw the way he looked at you.”

“Onstage? We were doing a scene.”

“Not onstage. When he was in the house and you came out as Cobweb.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“He thought you were hot.”

Simone smacked him on the shoulder. “I know you read the tabloids, which means you’ve seen the type of women Zach Hammond finds hot—and they’re nothing like me. And anyway, he’s a big flirt. He flirts with everybody.”

“Sure he does. I would too if I looked like him. But I haven’t seen him look at anyone the way he looked at you.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she knew better than to indulge in wishful thinking. It was one thing to have a crush on a man like Zach; it was another to believe he viewed her as anything but a colleague.

They came into the lobby and saw through the glass doors that Zach had found a cab. He was standing beside it, holding the back door open, and when he saw Simone, he bowed.

“Look at that,” Norbert said. “What a gentleman. I’ll bet he’s not a gentleman in bed, though.”

Simone agreed, but she wasn’t about to say so.

“Really. And what makes you draw that conclusion?”

“He’s got a rakish look about him.”

“Rakish? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use that word before.”

“Well, he’s British. It seemed appropriate.”

“I see. And how would you describe him if he were American?”

As the two of them watched through the glass, Zach leaned back against the cab, folded his arms, and grinned.

Norbert shook his head slowly. “Hot sex on a platter.”

At that moment Amy came through the side door with Hermia’s costume over her arm.

“Here you go,” she said. “Have fun tonight—and at the wedding tomorrow.”

“Not much chance of that,” Simone said cheerfully. “Jessica is Bridezilla in the flesh. I hope you guys have a good weekend, though. I’ll see you on Monday.”

As Zach watched Simone come out of the theater, he was still seeing her with new eyes. She was wearing the sweatpants and T-shirt she’d borrowed from Amy, both of which were a bit large on her, but though the clothes made her look like a ragamuffin, he was no longer fooled by that.

He didn’t think he’d ever forget the moment she came onstage as Cobweb.

The costume was simple—a gray unitard made of light fabric and an overdress of floating silk. In it, Simone had looked like Arthur Rackham’s conception of a fairy, the lines of her body as fluid as air or water and as insubstantial as a shaft of moonlight. But even though she might, as in Robert Browning’s poem, have been made of “spirit, fire and dew,” there was an earthiness about her, too.

And a whole lot of sexiness.

She had a dancer’s body, if not a dancer’s grace. But as he remembered her stumbling entrance onto the stage, he found himself smiling. Whatever else Simone Oliver was—klutzy, exasperating, occasionally abrasive—she was also utterly charming.

Not to mention talented.

She came to a stop and smiled up at him. “Thanks for getting a cab. And thanks again for agreeing to be part of my friend’s wedding. Jessica really put you on the spot when she asked you to do a reading.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

“That can’t possibly be true, but it’s very nice of you to say so.” She got into the back of the taxi with the Hermia costume on her lap. “So I guess I’ll see you at eight o’clock?”

“Yes,” he said, “but if you don’t mind, I’ll ride uptown with you. My hotel isn’t far from the restaurant.”

She frowned, but she scooted over to make room as he slid in beside her.

“We’ll drop you off first,” he told her, assuming she was worried about being late. He leaned forward and spoke to the driver. “There’ll be two stops. Ludano’s on East Seventy-sixth, and St. Albans Hotel after that.”

But Simone was still frowning as the taxi pulled away from the curb.

“I can’t show up at the restaurant like this and change in the restroom. That would make Jessica tense, and she’s already wound pretty tight.”

“All right,” he said, not sure what Simone was getting at.

“So I have to change in the cab.”

“In the . . . in here?”

“Yep.”

He stared at her. “You’re going to change clothes in this taxi?”

“That is correct.”

He gestured toward the front seat. “What about the driver?”

Simone snorted. “Are you kidding? This is Manhattan. Passengers have probably had sex in this cab.” She leaned forward and looked at the driver’s ID badge. “Hey, Rakesh?”

Rakesh glanced at them in the rearview mirror. “Yeah?”

“Has anybody ever had sex back here?”

“Good Lord,” Zach murmured, but the driver wasn’t even fazed.

“Nope. There’ve been some hand jobs, though—and one blow job.” He grinned at them. “If you guys want to—”

Simone shook her head. “Thanks, but we’re all set. I am going to change my clothes, though. Is that okay?”

The driver shrugged. “Fine with me. I’ll try not to go over any potholes.”

“That’s nice of you, Rakesh. I appreciate it.”

She sat back again and grinned at him. “The driver’s fine with it. And you’re in theater, so I’m sure you’ve seen your fair share of naked women in dressing rooms.”

A sudden image of Simone naked made his muscles tense unexpectedly.

“They’re not usually quite this close.”

Simone shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll avert your eyes like the gentleman you are.”

“I hardly think—”

“You know, you get more British when you’re uncomfortable.” Suddenly her eyes widened. “Hey! You’re uncomfortable!”

He frowned at her. “And this pleases you for some reason?”

She was grinning again, and there was a mischievous gleam in her big brown eyes.

“Absolutely. This is the first time I’ve had any kind of psychological advantage over you.”

“A psychological advantage? Why on earth would you need such a thing?”

“Because you’re intimidating.”

“I am?”

“Of course you are. You’re famous and brilliant and suave.”

“Suave?”

“Urbane. Debonair. Sophisticated.”

“I see.”

“And I’m really, really not. But now I have a secret weapon.”

“A secret weapon?”

She nodded. “Nudity. Whenever I feel nervous around you, I’ll just whip off my top or something.”

He glared at her, hoping she couldn’t tell that this conversation was turning him on. “If nudity is anyone’s secret weapon, it’s mine. The box office take for my movies was fifteen percent higher when I took my shirt off in at least one scene.”

That made her laugh. “Okay, you win. No one would ever pay to see me shirtless.” She waved her hand at him. “Close your eyes or turn around or whatever. I’ll let you know when it’s safe.”

He turned his head and gazed out the window at the city passing by. But he was acutely aware of Simone’s presence close beside him, and the fact that she was taking off her clothes.

“I’m down to my bra and panties now,” she said after a minute. “Pink cotton with lace edging, if you’re interested.”

He smiled in spite of himself. “Trying to tempt me?”

“As if I could. I’ve seen the pictures of your last few girlfriends, and I know you like your women well-endowed. I’m a B cup on my best day and that’s only if I stuff my bra.”

The words were breezy, but Zach wondered for just a moment if there could there be any insecurity behind them.

Probably not. Simone didn’t strike him as insecure, and especially not around men. He’d seen her in action at a bar one night when the company went for a drink after rehearsal. She’d worn a magenta leather dress and platform heels, and within five minutes she’d had a crowd of guys eating out of her hand.

Her look was a little offbeat for his tastes, but her style was definitely compelling—especially combined with her elfin features and vibrant energy. Small chested or not, she was one of the sexiest women he’d ever seen.

And she was changing her clothes six inches away from him.

“Okay,” she said a few minutes later. “I’m finished.”

He turned his head, and for the second time that day Simone Oliver took his breath away.

The dress she wore wasn’t historically accurate, but as Amy had said, it suggested the Elizabethan era. It was made of dark red silk with a gathered skirt, tight-fitting bodice, and a low, square neckline. Simone’s skin was creamy against the red material, and her pixie haircut made a fascinating contrast with the elegant gown.

As he stared at her without speaking, Simone’s smile faded.

“Do you think it’s too much?” she asked. “I wouldn’t normally give a damn, but I can’t embarrass Jessica at this thing. Do you think I should—”

“Don’t worry.” His voice was a little husky, and he cleared his throat. “You won’t embarrass your friend.”

She looked relieved. “Okay, good.”

The cab came to a stop a few minutes later, and Simone stuffed her sweatpants and T-shirt into her oversize quilted purse. “Perfect timing,” she said as she opened the door and got out. “See you in an hour,” she called over her shoulder, gathering her skirt in her hands as she crossed the sidewalk.

Only then did he notice that she was still wearing her trainers.

The taxi pulled away from the curb as Simone disappeared into the restaurant.

Zach smiled to himself as he leaned back against the seat. As he recalled the sparkle in Simone’s eyes, the glow in her cheeks, and the subtle swell of her breasts under the red silk gown, he realized he was no longer thinking of tonight’s dinner as a tiresome social obligation.

He was looking forward to it.

C
HAPTER
T
HREE

S
imone!”

Jessica pounced on her as soon as she walked in the door, which made Simone very glad she’d changed her clothes in the cab. She was also glad she’d dropped her long skirt to hide her sneakers.

“Hey, Jess. How are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m perfect. Just perfect.”

Jessica Bullock was looking especially beautiful this evening, which was no surprise. Ever since their college days, Jessica had taken her appearance very seriously. Simone had always found beauty-conscious girls a little shallow, but when Jessica had revealed that she’d been overweight in junior high—and teased unmercifully because of it—Simone had been much more sympathetic.

Tonight Jessica’s fine blonde hair was in an upsweep, the elegant chignon studded with diamond clips that flashed and sparkled every time she turned her head. The plunging neckline of her lemon-yellow dress showed off her cleavage as well as her floating diamond necklace.

Simone shaded her eyes as though blinded by the carats her friend was sporting. “You’re positively resplendent.”

“You look nice, too,” Jessica said. She sounded surprised but pleased, and Simone grinned.

“You thought I’d show up in black leather and combat boots, didn’t you?”

“I never know what to expect with you,” Jessica answered, but she was smiling. “You’re the last to arrive, so we can go up together. I’ve reserved a private room upstairs for cocktails. It’s just the wedding party until eight o’clock—and their escorts, if they bothered to invite one,” she added with a mock frown.

Simone grinned again as they started up the staircase. “You know I like flying solo.”

“Wouldn’t you like to have a plus one someday?”

Simone shrugged. “I like my life the way it is. No excess baggage.”

“Men aren’t baggage. It’s important to find a partner to share your life with. Someone who . . .”

She trailed off as they reached the top of the stairs. Simone could hear the sounds of talking and laughing coming from a room at the end of the hall, but Jessica made no move in that direction.

Simone glanced over at her and was startled by her friend’s expression. In that moment, Jessica didn’t look like a glowing bride-to-be or even an anxious bride-to-be.

She looked sad.

“Jess? Are you okay?”

Her friend looked down for a moment, smoothing her hands over the material of her dress. When she looked up again she was smiling.

“Of course I am. I’m getting married tomorrow!”

At that moment her fiancé, Tom, stuck his head into the hallway. “There you are,” he said. “Now the gang’s all here.” He held out his hand, and Jessica went to join him. “Can I get you a glass of champagne?” he asked Simone.

“You bet,” Simone said, following the couple into the room.

Maybe she’d just imagined the pain and uncertainty in Jessica’s eyes. Just because she didn’t have that madly-in-love glow every second of the day didn’t mean something was wrong.

Tom handed her a glass of champagne, and Simone glanced around the small, wood-paneled room for her best friend, Kate, who was coming tonight with—

Whoa.

In case anyone needed a visual for what a madly-in-love glow actually looked like, the poster child was right here. Two poster children, actually.

Kate Meredith and Ian Hart were across the room by the windows, and they had eyes for no one but each other. They were also finding reasons to touch. As Simone made her way toward them, Ian tucked an invisible strand of hair behind Kate’s ear as she brushed an invisible speck of dust from his dark gray lapel.

“For God’s sake, get a room.”

Kate flashed a huge smile. “Hey, Simone. I didn’t see you come in.”

“No kidding.”

As they turned to face her, Ian took the opportunity to slide his arm around Kate’s waist.

Simone lifted an eyebrow. “Since you two are literally attached at the hip, I’m guessing you’re dating again.”

Ian nodded. “It’s pretty serious, too. I asked her to go steady.”

“Wise move, Mr. Hart.”

Ian kissed the top of Kate’s head. “Yeah.”

Kate noticed her friend’s appearance for the first time. “Wow, you look great. Is that a new dress?”

Simone brushed her hands over her hips, the costume designer in her luxuriating in the feel of silk against her fingertips.

“Not exactly. My meeting went late, so I didn’t have time to go home and change. I had to borrow a costume from the theater.”

“Hey, that’s right! You showed Zach your set today. How did it go?”

If she tried not to blush, she would blush.

Don’t think about blushing. Don’t think about blushing. Don’t think about—

Kate raised her eyebrows. “Your cheeks match your dress.”

Simone chose to ignore that remark. “The meeting went fine,” she said with dignity.

“So give me some details. How did it go with Zach? He’s coming tonight, isn’t he? I know Jessica invited him.”

For the last ten years, Simone had always told Kate everything there was to tell about her sex life and her romantic life—mostly the former, since Simone wasn’t particularly interested in romance. But now, for some reason, she felt oddly reluctant to share the day’s events with her best friend—or at least, the events involving Zach.

Not that he was part of her romantic life
or
her sex life, of course.

But just as she thought that, she was distracted by a sudden memory of her taxi ride uptown.

Zach had averted his head like a gentleman, but she’d almost chickened out anyway. It had taken a certain amount of chutzpah to take her clothes off right next to Zach Hammond. To cover up her nervousness, she’d given a blow-by-blow of the undressing process that included a description of her bra and panties.

She wished she knew how that had affected him, if at all, but she’d been too aware of her own physical reactions to pay any attention to his. He’d been so close she could see a small scar on the back of his neck and breathe in his scent—clean, masculine, and mouthwatering. When she was down to her undies, her bare skin had prickled as though he were looking at her.

That memory led back to the scene at the theater, when she’d had her arms around his shoulders and his head in her lap. His soft, thick hair against her fingers had made her wonder what it would feel like brushing against her breasts or her belly or her thighs.

Simone never censored her own imagination, especially when it came to sex. But thinking about Zach—especially in a crowded room and in front of her observant friend—made her feel unexpectedly shy.

Of all the adjectives Simone might have used to describe herself,
shy
was not one of them.

Kate’s eyebrows went up again. “Okay, spill. What’s going on?”

Simone was saved from answering by Tom and Jessica, who chose that moment to ask for everyone’s attention as they presented their gifts to the bridesmaids and groomsmen.

That took them to the end of the cocktail hour. Kate and Simone, bringing up the rear of the group as they headed downstairs for dinner, were comparing their engraved Tiffany bracelets when they reached the head of the staircase.

Simone stopped talking—and stopped walking, too. She had a clear view of the people downstairs in the restaurant lobby, and Zach was one of them. He was facing away from her as he glanced over the menu on the wall. His dark gray suit was tailored to the swooning point, and the line of his shoulders made her catch her breath.

Kate bumped into her, throwing her off balance. She grabbed for the banister but it was too late. All she could do was run down the stairs as quickly as she could, trying desperately to recover her balance before she reached the bottom.

“Heads up!” Kate called out, and the people moving more sedately down the stairs turned, saw Simone careening toward them, and got hastily out of the way.

As a path opened up before her she realized she was heading straight for Zach. Hearing the commotion behind him, he turned just as her momentum carried her down the last stair and propelled her across the entryway.

Simone would have forgiven Zach for throwing up his arms in self-defense, even if she’d gotten a black eye or bloody nose, but that wasn’t what he did.

He braced himself and opened his arms wide. When Simone crashed into him, he absorbed the impact, his arms going around her automatically.

The breath got knocked out of her but she wasn’t hurt. After a few seconds she could breathe again, and the first thing she noticed was the faint scent of really expensive aftershave. The second was that she was wrapped in a pair of very strong arms.

“I’m happy to see you, too,” Zach murmured in her ear, his voice warm and intimate and amused.

Simone pressed her hands against his chest to recover her balance and took a step back as soon as he let her go.

She could hardly bring herself to meet his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I tripped at the top of the stairs, and I couldn’t, um, catch my balance.”

She risked a glance at him, and he was smiling at her, his blue eyes crinkled up at the corners. “It was my pleasure.” He paused for a beat. “Apparently you were right.”

“Right about what?”

She was still a little wobbly, and he put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. Most of his hand was on the material of her dress, but his thumb rested on the bare skin over her collarbone.

“You seem to lack a certain . . . suavity.”

The psychological advantage was definitely with Zach again.

“Not what you’re used to, I know. How does it feel to be slumming with the unsuave?”

His thumb moved half an inch and then back again—a tiny caress that made her shiver.

“It’s delightful,” he said softly.

His eyes left her face to focus on something behind her.

“Good evening, Jessica,” he said, taking his hand from Simone’s shoulder. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Simone stepped out of the way and turned to see Jessica extend her hand to Zach, who took it in his own and raised it, kissing the air above her knuckles in approved aristocratic fashion.

“I’m so glad you could come, Mr. Hammond.”

“Please call me Zach.”

“Zach,” Jessica repeated, looking pleased. “And this is my husband-to-be, Tom Shelburne.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Zach said, shaking Tom’s hand. “You’re a very lucky man.”

Tom smiled politely. “Indeed I am. Jessica and I are so glad you could be here this evening. Please allow me to—”

Tom stopped abruptly, staring at the doorway. When Simone turned to see what he was looking at, she saw a man in his late thirties or early forties with dark hair thinning on top, a face shadowed by stubble, and a tired look in his eyes. He wore jeans and carried a duffel bag over one shoulder, and it was obvious he hadn’t come to dine at Ludano’s.

“Hi,” he said, looking at Tom and Jessica. “Would you mind if I talk to you for a minute?”

Jessica was gripping Tom’s arm. “Both of us?” she asked warily.

The man shook his head. “Just Tom,” he said.

Tom’s expression was frozen. “Sorry, Everett. This is our rehearsal dinner, and we’re not going to interrupt it.” He gestured toward the other man’s duffel bag. “It looks like you just got into town. I’m sure you want to check into your hotel. Why don’t you do that, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Everett held Tom’s gaze for a moment without saying anything. Then he turned his eyes to Jessica.

“I’m sorry to bust in like this,” he said quietly. “You look beautiful, Jess.”

He glanced at Tom once more, nodded, and was gone.

There was a moment of silence after he left. Most of the guests had gone into the dining room, so only a handful of people had witnessed the awkward encounter.

Simone wondered who Everett was. An old boyfriend of Jessica’s? A black sheep in Tom’s family?

But as Kate and Ian came toward her and she saw the Cheshire-cat smile on Kate’s face, she stopped thinking about the mysterious Everett and started reliving her precipitous descent down the staircase.

Tom was talking to Zach as though there had been no interruption. “Please allow me to introduce you to some friends and family.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Simone started to relax as Zach went toward the dining room with the bride and groom. Then he looked back at her and winked.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“Wow,” she heard Kate say a moment later, and she opened her eyes to see her friend grinning.

“Go away.”

Kate glanced over her shoulder as Zach disappeared into the dining room. “You know what? In that suit and with that accent, he could play James Bond. Which would make you a Bond girl. Kind of a klutzy one, but . . .”

“Just leave me alone with my humiliation.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t fall flat on your face. If that isn’t a reason to wear sneakers with a dress, I don’t know what is. What if you were in heels? It would’ve been a bloodbath. Jessica would never have forgiven you.”

Simone covered her eyes with one hand. “Every time I’m around him I act like a giant dork.”

“You really do. Which is weird, because I’m usually the dorky one.”

“That’s right. You are. Why couldn’t it have been you who shot down the stairs and into his arms?”

Kate sighed. “An excellent question.” She glanced at Ian out of the corner of her eye. Of course, now that I’m dating what’s-his-name—”

Ian dropped a kiss on her shoulder. “I love you, too.”

Kate snuggled against him. “We should probably go sit down.”

“I’ll meet you guys in there,” Simone said. “I want to go to the restroom first.”

“You need a minute to recover? Totally understandable. I mean, you did just avoid falling on your face by hurtling into the arms of a movie star.”

Simone glared at her. “I would like to remind you that I never rubbed your nose in it on the many occasions when
you
made a fool of yourself in public.”

“I bet you wish you had now, huh?”

She turned to Ian. “Please get her out of here.”

“I’m on it,” he assured her, taking Kate’s hand and pulling her down the hall.