The Morning After (7 page)

“Did she say who she was?” Cara asked.

Another swipe of cold cotton wool on the other eye.

“She just pushed in here. Didn’t say anything apart from what she said to you. She had one of those little tape recorder thingys…I’m so sorry, this has never happened before. I feel so terrible, your entire relaxing facial is ruined.” A dry cloth swept over Cara’s eyelids. “You can open your eyes now.”

Cara’s eyes flickered open, and relief flooded her as the room came into focus.

“Okay?” The beautician’s face bisected her field of vision.

“Fine.” Cara forced a smile. “It wasn’t your fault, don’t worry about it.” The face mask slid on her brow as she frowned. “I wonder how she found me.” After all, no one knew of her appointment except her and the salon.

Cara sank back onto the salon bed, and closed her eyes as the beautician wiped off the face mask.

The beautician’s blue eyes stared into hers. Her extra-long false eyelashes fluttered. “I saw her from the window. That mini’s yours isn’t it?”

Cara nodded, as the wet cloth swiped over her mouth.

“She walked up to it and read the number plate. I guess she must have discovered that was your car.”

Which meant she must have done quite a lot of research to track Cara down. The reporter must know where she lived too.

Perhaps she wasn’t yesterday’s news after all.

****

Cara’d told him she didn’t need his help. But she had no idea what she was dealing with. By the time filming was finished for the day, Ethan had, with Maggie’s help, organized a flight from Dublin to LA for the following morning, and cancelled filming for the following day.

John Mosse hadn’t been happy about telling the assembled cast and crew about the change of plans, but when Ethan had agreed to cover all the considerable expenses involved, and the actors and crew had agreed to work an extra day over the weekend (at a considerable bonus rate, also covered by Ethan) he’d reluctantly agreed.

“She must be worth a lot,” he said, as Ethan wrote a personal check. “An
awful
lot,” he reiterated as he glanced at the amount before stuffing the check in his pocket.

“She is.” Ethan’s heart clenched at the thought of Cara being hounded by the press. She’d been through so much in the past week; she must be at breaking point.

He climbed into his car and drove to the sterile, empty condo in West Hollywood that served as a temporary home. He threw his keys on the table, added crushed ice from the refrigerator into a tall glass, and topped it up with fresh orange juice. Then he strode to the phone and called Sean.

“I wondered when I was going to hear from you.” His brother’s familiar lilt sounded so close he could almost be in the same room. “Things are crazy here.”

“Here too.” Ethan drank a cold mouthful. “I’ve emailed you a ticket. I need you to get Cara onto a plane tomorrow morning. I can take care of her here. She won’t like it, I talked to her earlier and she told me she could handle it, but…”

“A lot’s happened since this morning,” Sean said. “Cara drove into the station this afternoon, being chased by a ton of reporters and photographers.”

Ethan clamped his teeth together as tension gripped his shoulders. “Is she all right?” Frustration at not being there made his tone sharp. “She shouldn’t be alone.”

“Calm down, bro. She’s fine. We dressed her as a ban-garda and slipped her out of the station without any of them realizing. She’s staying with me. Do you want to talk to her?”

Ethan gripped the phone. “Yes.”

After a brief moment, Cara’s husky tones sounded in Ethan’s ear. “I guess you were right.” Her laugh sounded forced. “It’s been crazy.”

He’d got used to the press’s attention, but Cara had no experience of it. Until he’d brought it to her door. Ethan rubbed his eyes. He shouldn’t have hit Michael, not in a place where every person had a cell phone with a camera.

“What happened?”

“A journalist ambushed me in the salon when I was covered in a face mask and getting my eyelashes dyed. I told her to bugger off, so that’ll probably be in the papers tomorrow morning.” She sighed. “Then when I popped into the supermarket on the way home, a photographer stepped up and brazenly took a series of shots of me at the till. Focusing on my shopping basket.”

Curiosity piqued, Ethan asked, “What had you bought?”

“Ice cream, black rubbish sacks, and tampons,” Cara replied. “God knows what stories they’ll get from that.”

“At least you hadn’t bought a pregnancy test,” Ethan said.

“Yes, small mercies.” Silence followed her words—stretched for long moments.

“They won’t leave until they have a story. I’ve booked a flight for you tomorrow morning, Sean has the ticket.” Ethan said in a tone that brooked no argument. “I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

“Isn’t that just going to add fuel to the flames?”

“Probably, but there’s nothing either of us can do to dowse them at this stage. I want you to be close. At my house in Malibu, at least you can avoid being hassled every time you go outside.” Suddenly he wanted to see her more than he wanted to take his next breath. Wanted to spend every moment with her. To check for himself that she wasn’t hurting by anything he’d done. Wanted to be there for her, in the way she’d been there for him when Aoife Fitzpatrick, the woman he’d thought himself in love with, had followed him to Hollywood and broken his heart.

The strength of his desire dried his mouth. The memory of Cara’s azure eyes staring into his as he’d pulled her close, her chest and firm thighs against his flooded his body with remembered sensation. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Since Aoife, his relationships with women followed a predictable trajectory. Date, bed. Goodbye. Maybe because the women he dated knew Ethan Quinn movie star, rather than Ethan Quinn man. A relationship with Cara would be different. She not only knew his entire history but liked him for who he really was, rather than the faked-up public persona that he lived in Hollywood.

She was the only woman he’d let close. Because there had never been the possibility of involvement between them.

But the sands had shifted.

Having Cara enter his world was going to be dangerous.

Chapter Eight

There was absolutely no reason why she should have worn her sexiest jeans. Or the top that dipped low in the front. Apart from the fact that she needed every last drop of confidence that looking her best lent her.
Just keep telling yourself that,
Cara thought, pushing out the little voice that mocked she was dressing for Ethan.

In one way, she was. After all, if she was going to be photographed as his current squeeze, she owed it to him to at least look vaguely enticing.
Who are you kidding? You want to see that look in his eyes again…
The look that heated her blood and made her body all tingly when he pulled her close on the dance-floor. The one he’d never directed at her in all the years they’d known each other.

She’d never questioned her feelings for Ethan before. But then, she’d never felt quite like this about him either. Ethan didn’t do serious. Never flirted with long-term. A quick fling could ruin their relationship forever. But just the thought of him broke her out in goosebumps. Which
couldn’t
be good.

The
fasten seat belts
light went on.

“We’ll be landing in the next few moments, please ensure that your tables are in the clipped-up position,” a disembodied voice drawled.

Cara shoved her latest read, a compelling biography of a woman prison warder, in her bag and slipped her feet back into her high-heeled sandals. She pulled her hairbrush out of the bag, and quickly reapplied her makeup.

“Meeting someone special?” the elderly lady who’d been her companion in first class for the last twelve hours asked. Appearances could be deceptive. Rather than an old lady visiting family, Juliet was an octogenarian writer whose thriller was going to be turned into a film.

“My friend is meeting me at the airport,” Cara said.

“A man friend?” Juliet’s eyes twinkled with mischief. Dimples formed perfect dents in her powdery cheeks.

Cara felt her cheeks heat in a flush. “A man friend,” Cara confirmed. “How about you?”

“My agent. My book is being made into a film—I have to meet with the scriptwriter and read through his treatment.”

“It’s so exciting!” Cara leaned closer.

“I never thought I’d see one of my books on the silver screen,” Juliet said. “Especially at my age.”

“I guess you never know what twists and turns your life will take.”

Over the long flight they’d talked about everything. A shared love of writing had formed an unexpected bond, and the enforced proximity had strengthened it.

“Pass me your cell phone.” Juliet extended a wrinkled hand with pink painted nails. “I want to put my number into it.”

Cara handed it over.

Juliet carefully added Cara’s number into her own cell too. After passing it back, Juliet continued. “I’d love to meet you for lunch if you’re in central Hollywood. I’ve enjoyed meeting you.”

“Me too, Juliet,” Cara said, surprised to realize how true her words were. Juliet’s agile mind and quick wit had been a godsend during the flight. She’d confided that she’d lost her job, but hadn’t gone into detail about Ethan. Some things weren’t meant for sharing. “I’m staying with a friend in Malibu, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to join you for lunch, but I’ll certainly try.”

“Do, honey.” Juliet patted her hand in a grandmotherly way. “Oh, and I have something for you.” She reached into her bag, and pulled out a book with a gory picture of a man with a slashed throat on the cover, with the title,
Edge of Night
, written below it.

“Yours?” Cara’s voice sounded faint. Somehow she’d imagined Juliet’s book to be more cozy than slasher.

“Mine.” Juliet’s head jerked down then up. Pride lit her eyes. “A psychological thriller about a very complex man.” She giggled. “You should see your face!”

Cara smiled. “I didn’t expect…”

“People never do, dear.” Juliet patted her hand. “You should never judge anyone by their appearance, you know. What’s inside may surprise you.”

The lights dimmed.

“Oh good, we’re landing.” Juliet clasped her bag on her lap. Leaned closer and whispered into Cara’s ear. “Don’t worry. This little career break will turn out for the best, you’ll see.”

The plane dipped toward the runway. Cara stowed her makeup bag and mirror in her bag, pulled in a lungful of air. And prepared to land.

****

Leaning against a pillar outside the arrivals gate, Ethan glanced at his Rolex. He hadn’t managed to escape detection; two girls across the concourse had caught his eye with their excited smiles on the way in.

The first trickle of fresh travelers had walked through a few minutes ago. He searched the wave that followed for her face without success.

Around him, reunited families hugged and laughed. His stomach clenched at their happy faces. In the years since he’d been in California, he’d never greeted anyone at the airport. Never persuaded his last living relative, Sean, to make the trip.

Time seemed to stand still as he waited. The tinny voice announced another flight. Then, pushing a trolley laden with bags, Cara appeared. A diminutive, white haired woman walked alongside her, and the two were deep in conversation.

“Juliet!” A tall, dark haired man waved in Cara’s direction and hurried over.

With a smile, the lady introduced the newcomer to Cara, who surrendered the trolley to his care before kissing the lady’s cheek.

Cara looked around.

The moment their gazes connected, Ethan felt as though the air had been forced out of his lungs. Dressed simply in tight, navy jeans and a red T-shirt that showcased every dangerous curve, she was simply stunning.

She smiled.

Ethan struggled for air.

She said something to the lady and her friend—who both glanced in Ethan’s direction—and said her goodbyes. “Hey!” she said, walking toward him. “There you are.”

Ethan shook the cobwebs out of his brain and took the bag from her shoulder. “Good to see you.” His voice sounded gravelly, as though he’d been dragging himself on his stomach through the desert for days without water. He swallowed. “Good flight?”

Somehow, without any prompting from his brain, his body moved closer. She smelled of lemons. His face lowered to hers, and his mouth dusted across her mouth.

She stayed so still she might have been carved from stone.

“Yes, good,” she whispered, her breath warming his lips.

The urge to pull her into his arms, to really kiss her, flashed like lightning.

Her pupils expanded into large black pools.

A breathless voice shattered the spell. “Can we have a picture?”

The girls had made it across the concourse and stood close by. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t registered their approach.

Ethan stepped back. “Sure.”

Both girls giggled as he gifted them with his best movie star grin. From the corner of his eye, he saw Cara rub a hand across her eyes as if to obliterate his image.

“Who’s first?” He stretched one arm out in silent invitation.

“Oh, we don’t want a picture with you, we want a picture of the two of you together,” one of the girls explained. “You’re Cara, aren’t you?”

Cara’s jaw dropped. “I…”

“My friend’s just come off a long flight,” Ethan said. “I’m sure she’d prefer…”

The girl pouted. “Oh, please…”

Ethan glanced around. People seemed to be watching the tableau unfolding before them with interest. They really needed to get out of here as soon as possible.

Cara stepped close, picked up his arm, and draped it over her shoulder. “Yes, I’m Cara.” She smiled brightly at the girls. “I don’t mind being photographed.”

All smiles again, the girls quickly snapped a picture.

“Now, we have to go.” With a glance at the doors, Cara efficiently engineered their exit, leaving Ethan free to follow in her wake.

In two long strides, he caught up with her. “Do you even know where you’re going?”

She shot him a glance beneath long dark lashes. Her cheek dimpled. “I haven’t a clue—I just thought we ought to get out of there before you drew any more attention.”