The Walk of Fame (13 page)

‘No need,’ he said, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankle. ‘I have a cleaning service. They’ll get to it this afternoon.’

‘Oh, okay.’ She put the plates into the sink.

‘What happened to the dress?’ he asked.

She looked down at the T-shirt and jeans she’d changed into after her shower. ‘I thought I’d go for a walk on the beach after breakfast. This outfit seemed more practical.’ And a lot less revealing. After her second shower of the day she’d been feeling considerably less bold.

‘That’s a shame—the dress was something else.’

She rubbed her hands on the worn denim. Not sure what
to make of the little peak in her heartbeat at the casual compliment. She really needed to get hold of her ridiculous reaction every time he said something nice to her.

She tugged on the hem of her T-shirt. ‘I think I’ll go for that walk now.’ The kitchen suddenly felt suffocating.

He smiled, placing his coffee cup on the table as he stood. ‘Good idea. We can walk round the point during low tide to the public beach.’ He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. ‘They have the best ice-cream stand in LA there.’

She hadn’t planned on him offering to come with her. ‘I’m sure I can find it myself, if you have something you need to be doing.’

His smile widened as he pulled his T-shirt on over his head. Her eyes were drawn to the play of muscles as his abdomen disappeared behind white cotton.

‘As it happens, I don’t have a thing I need to be doing right now,’ he said.

He slipped his hand into hers as they took the terrace steps to the beach. Squeezed.

‘So what was his name?’

Drat, he hadn’t forgotten a thing.

She tensed and tried to pull her hand out of his. Mac hung on.

He’d seen how wary she was when she’d walked into the kitchen, and had considered for a moment letting it drop. But as he watched her eat the breakfast he’d cooked for her he knew he shouldn’t. Figuring her out was the first step to getting her out of his head for good. As long as she still had secrets, she’d continue to fascinate him.

Once he knew why she’d picked him, and picked now, he wouldn’t feel responsible any more. He was counting on it. There’d be no more guilt trips. And anyway, he’d always been deeply curious about people, other people; it was part of what made him good at what he did.

‘Are you really sure you want to hear this?’

He heard the plea in her voice and forced himself to ignore it. ‘Tell it like a story. It’ll be easier. That’s what my shrink says.’

Her eyes went round in her face. ‘You have a psychiatrist?’

‘Everyone in Hollywood has a shrink. They’re like a fashion accessory.’ He’d only been the once, and he hadn’t told the guy a thing—it had reminded him too much of being in the confessional as a lad—but she didn’t need to know that. If he wanted her to open up, it made sense to put her at her ease. ‘And confession’s good for the soul. Remember that.’

She slanted him a sideways look. ‘You don’t really believe that, do you?’

Not for a minute.

‘Of course I do. I was born a Catholic.’ He swung her hand in his and grinned. ‘Now tell Uncle Mac everything. It’ll make you feel better, I guarantee it.’

She huffed out a laugh, and he knew he had her. ‘Oh, all right, then, but I still don’t understand why you want to know.’ She took a deep breath, shielding her eyes against the sun. ‘His name was Tony. I was just sixteen when I met him.’

‘How old was he?’ He hated the bastard already.

‘Older.’

Figured. ‘How much older?’

She dropped her hand from her brow. ‘I don’t know. I never asked him.’

‘So how did you meet him?’

‘Me and my best mate Candice wanted to see this movie. But it was an eighteen certificate.’

‘One of mine, I hope,’ he said, trying to keep things light. A shadow had crossed her face.

She sent him a wistful smile. ‘No, it wasn’t. I’ve never seen any of your movies.’

He stopped dead in the sand, stunned. ‘You’ve not seen one of my movies? Seriously?’

When her smile widened, he realised how conceited he must sound.

‘Yes, seriously,’ she said. ‘I’m not a big movie-goer.’

‘Well, damn, we may have to remedy that,’ he said, although he wasn’t at all sure he wanted to. There was something refreshing about dating a woman who knew nothing of his public image. Feeling oddly humbled, he took her hand again and walked on. ‘So go on now. His name was Tony and he was an old man.’

She laughed again. ‘I never said he was an old man. He was just…older. Anyway. Candice and I wanted to get into the movie, so we got all dolled up.’She stifled a small smile. ‘Which meant tons of make-up, fishnet tights, short skirts. I don’t know what it is about being sixteen and wanting to look eighteen, but you automatically assume you should dress like a prostitute.’

He couldn’t imagine her with tons of make-up on. She’d had a little on at the wedding, but she had none on today, and she didn’t need it. The colour of her eyes, so striking against her pale skin, her high cheekbones and those plump kissable lips. It would be a crime to plaster loads of paint on such a fresh, beautiful face. She swiped her hair behind her ear in a natural, unaffected gesture, the sunlight catching the gold in her hair. Did she have any notion at all how gorgeous she was?

He gripped her hand harder. ‘Go on.’

‘Tony was there with a couple of his mates. They were all city-boy types, you know, designer suits, high spirits, full of themselves.’

He could imagine. The bastards had seen two young girls and found a way to take advantage of them. The world was full of users, and the worst were often the best dressed.

‘They offered to take us into the movie. Candice and I were really flattered. We thought we must look very sophisticated, to attract grown men. Tony bought me popcorn and Coke and put his arm round me. By the time the film was over I hadn’t seen any of it. And I was already halfway in love with him.’

She gave a self-deprecating laugh, but it sounded unbearably sad to him.

‘I gave him my phone number, because he asked. And over the next few weeks I fell for him hook, line and sinker. He took me to dinner at a swanky restaurant in Mayfair. We went for walks in the park. He bought me champagne, and flowers, and we chatted about everything. He seemed interested in what I had to say and I was pathetically pleased with all the attention. So when he asked if I wanted to go back to his place in the Barbican one Saturday, I said yes.’

Mac’s gut tightened; he didn’t want to hear the rest of this. But he had to know now. He’d happily kill the bastard, just out of principle. But he had a sick feeling in his stomach that he hadn’t heard the worst of it.

‘When we got to his place, he said all this stuff about how much he wanted me, how incredible I was, how he’d never met anyone like me before. And then, he …’ She turned to look at him and for a second he could see the anguish in her eyes before she banked it. ‘I was a virgin and it hurt. A lot. He wasn’t anywhere near as gentle as you were—and he was annoyed with me for making such a fuss. He told me to come back when I’d grown up. And that’s why I didn’t want to do it again. For quite a long time.’ She said it matter-of-factly, as if it had happened to someone else.

She shrugged and looked away, the movement so defeated, his stomach ached.

‘So now you know what a silly, naïve fool I was.’

‘Don’t say that.’ The words were tight, laced with anger.

Juno turned, stunned to see the barely leashed fury in his face. ‘What’s the matter?’

He tugged her towards him, rested his hands on her waist. ‘Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.’ His eyes searched her face, the deep blue turbulent with emotion. ‘You were a child. He knew that and he exploited it.’ He held her head, rubbing his thumb across her temple in one slow, gentle stroke. ‘Don’t ever think it was your fault.’

She shouldn’t want his sympathy. His support. His opinion didn’t matter. But his words, so forceful, so full of fury on her behalf, made the knot of shame lodged inside her for so long release. And the brutalised child she’d once been was so grateful, the tears clogged her throat.

‘Come here,’ he murmured as he laid her head against his chest. His open palm caressed her hair, rubbed her back. ‘Don’t cry, darlin’. He doesn’t deserve a single one of your tears.’

They stood together for a long time as she held on to him, breathing in the comforting scent of clean cotton and sea air and listening to the soft rhythmic crash of the surf on the shore and the sure, solid beat of his heart.

She had the sudden urge to tell him the rest, to tell him all of it. The real horror of what had happened six years ago. But she clenched her teeth and stifled the childish urge to confide more. She’d told him too much already.

Just because he hadn’t judged her. Just because he’d been sweet and sympathetic and surprisingly supportive. Just because he was a kinder man than she’d ever thought possible, didn’t mean he could ever be the man for her. This didn’t change a thing between them.

He lifted her chin. ‘You okay now?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Good.’ He took her hand in his and squeezed hard. ‘So how does a chocolate sundae with hot fudge sauce sound?’

‘Wonderful,’ she said as she squeezed back and willed herself not to care that he’d changed the subject.

But however hard she tried, she couldn’t forget how good it had felt to have him hold her when she’d needed it most.

Great going, pal. You just shot yourself in the foot.

Sure, he didn’t feel responsible any more, or guilty, or fascinated. After what she’d told him. After the way she’d stood so bravely in his arms, stifling her tears, what he felt was involved. And it bothered him. A lot.

As they rounded the rocks and set out across the public beach towards his favourite ice-cream stand Mac tried to concentrate on chocolate sundaes and hot fudge sauce and licking them off Juno’s naked breasts.

He refused to dwell on all the conflicting emotions currently churning in his gut and making his heart lurch into his throat.

He only had one thing to offer her. And that was two weeks of no-strings sex.

So there’d be no more heart-to-hearts, no more delving into her past, no more trying to figure out her psyche. That had been a dumb idea.

From now on he’d be keeping a choke-hold on his curiosity and keeping things strictly sexual—with chocolate sauce on top.

J
UNO’S
hormones did their usual happy dance as she slipped her sunglasses off her nose and watched Mac stroll across the pool terrace. Returning from his regular morning jog, he looked damp and delicious, his T-shirt and shorts moulded to that mouth-watering physique like a second skin.

Juno swallowed down the boulder of lust lodged in her throat as he walked towards her. After eight days as Mac’s house guest, she’d begun to crave that tanned, muscular body and the amazing things it could do to her with an intensity she wasn’t sure was entirely healthy.

The last week had been an exhilarating voyage of sexual discovery. Mac wasn’t just a skilled lover. He was a master. And she’d been an eager student, lapping up every new experience like a woman who had been dying of thirst.

But he hadn’t just proved to be an excellent host in the bedroom. Instead of disappearing for most of the day to do whatever movie stars did, he’d hardly left her side. They’d lounged by the pool, checked out the local art galleries, had quiet meals on the terrace and frolicked in the sea like a couple of kids—nearly drowning each other the day before when he decided to teach her how to surf—as well as making love every chance they got.

That moment of connection on the beach their first day had never been repeated, and she knew she should be grateful for
that. Keeping things simple and living every moment to the hilt made sense. She couldn’t afford to get involved any more than he could.

Mac lived in a fantasy world, in which beautiful people did beautiful things in impossibly beautiful places. She didn’t; she lived in the real world. And once this fabulous voyage came to its inevitable conclusion, she wanted to be able to go back to it without a single regret. She could only do that if she didn’t complicate things—or start wishing for things she couldn’t possibly have. But it was proving harder and harder as each day passed to keep everything in perspective.

He picked up her glass of lemonade from the arm of her sun lounger. ‘So what’s Miss Juno been up to?’

‘I’ve been chatting to Daisy,’ she said, trying not to obsess over the way his Adam’s apple glistened in the sun as he took a thirsty swallow of the icy drink. ‘Ronan’s cutting his first tooth and she and Connor were up half the night with him.’

He paused before putting the glass down with a click.

‘That’s tough.’ He braced his hands on the sun-lounger, leant over and kissed her, leaving the bittersweet taste of lemonade and longing on her lips. ‘You want to join me in the shower?’

He’d avoided the subject, as he always did whenever she mentioned Connor and his family. She tried not to let it upset her. ‘I’ve already had a shower.’

‘So have another,’ he said, a wicked gleam in his eyes. ‘I’ll scrub your back.’

More than sunlight warmed her cheeks as she recalled how inventive he’d been yesterday morning when she’d taken him up on a similar offer.

‘I better not,’ she said with considerable reluctance while her hormones did the hula. ‘Daisy’s ringing me back in a minute. I wouldn’t want to get sidetracked.’

‘Oh, wouldn’t you, now?’ he murmured. His teeth nipped her bottom lip. ‘That’s a crying shame. Because I’m definitely in the mood …’ he paused deliberately ‘… to get sidetracked.’

‘You’re always in the mood,’ she replied saucily as she gave him a playful shove and acknowledged the delicious spark that always accompanied their banter.

Mac hadn’t just opened up a whole new world of sexual discovery for her in the past week. He’d also shown her how to flirt. Teasing and tantalising her until she couldn’t resist doing it back. And like his lovemaking, the more she flirted with him, the more addictive it became.