From Fake to Forever (10 page)

Hannah cocked her head with her chin in her hand for a few seconds. “How about we play tea party?” she asked with bright eyes.

He shuddered as he felt his testosterone level dip. “That sounds…great.”

Sandra whooped with laughter. “Yeah, right. I wish I could stay and watch. Here,” she said, handing him the tiara. “You might need this.”

“Hey, I happen to be a man secure enough in my masculinity to not only wear a tiara to a child’s tea party, but I can rock wearing it, too.”

Sandra smirked then glanced at her watch. “Again, as much as I’d like to stay, I have to leave. All the important numbers are by the phone. Hannah’s bedtime is at seven thirty. One story, one glass of water, no excuses. Hear that?” she said, looking pointedly to her daughter.

With a huge smile, Hannah held up the chocolate pudding and nodded.

“See?” He made an elaborate show of polishing his knuckles on his chest. “I won’t have any problems. Pudding bribery works every time.”

Sandra laid her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Thanks again, Ben. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She gave Hannah a kiss, making her promise to be good, then with one last smile thrown in his direction, she grabbed her purse and left.

Okay. Everything’s going to be fine
, he reminded himself as the door closed with booming finality. Nobody was going to get hurt. He could do this. He was a responsible adult—most of the time.

“Big Bens, can I have the chocolate pudding now?” Hannah asked, snapping him out of his mental lecture.

“Oh. Sure.” He took the pudding cup from her hands and peeled back the top. Grabbing a napkin and a spoon, he dumped everything on the table. “There you go. Emeril, eat your heart out.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Who’s Em-roll?”

“He’s a chef.”

“What’s a chef?”

“It’s a person whose job is to cook and prepare meals.”

“Oh. He cooks food like my mommy?”

He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud. “Sort of.”

“Uh-oh.”

His heart dropped. He was only two minutes into this gig and there was already an “uh-oh.”

“What uh-oh?”

“I need my pink spoon,” she said with a grimace, holding up the plain metal one he’d given her.

“Pink spoon?”

She closed her eyes and nodded.

What difference does a spoon make?
Knowing that was a debate he would more than likely lose, he gritted his teeth and opened the drawer again. There were ten different pink spoons. Figures. He decided to play it safe, scooping them all out in his fist and plopping them on the table. He watched Hannah and sucked in his breath, waiting. She looked at them all thoughtfully, then with a big smile, she picked out the one she wanted and started to eat.

Ben sank into the chair behind him. Crisis successfully averted. That wasn’t so hard.

See? He could act like a father. But before he could pat himself on the back further, his cell phone rang.

“Where the hell are you?” he heard as soon as he tapped the screen.

He sat back and crossed his ankles. “I’m doing well, thanks for asking, Denise. Why yes, I agree, the weather is unseasonably nice. In fact—”

“I don’t have time for niceties,” his agent snapped. “Where are you?”

“New Jersey, last time I checked.”

He heard a sigh and then a gnashing sound he figured had to be her teeth. “
I know that
only because you’re not here in New York—where you’re supposed to be doing your six o’clock interview.
Remember?
”

The interview. Crap. Talk about an uh-oh.

Ben sat up. How could he forget something so important? What was the matter with him? Unfortunately he knew the answer to that as he stared across at Sandra’s daughter.

He forced a cough, his mind racing. “I forgot to tell you I had to cancel it.”

“Why did you have to cancel?” she asked, sounding in a panic. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Something suddenly came up.”

“
What?
Don’t give me that lame
Brady Bunch
excuse! For the last time,
where
are you?”

He looked over again at Hannah eating her pudding. She stopped midbite, smiled with chocolate-covered teeth, and gave him a thumbs-up sign. An unexpected tenderness touched his heart. He smiled back and returned the thumbs-up.

“You want the truth? I’m…babysitting,” he answered. He purposely mumbled the last word, but Denise apparently had the ears of a barn owl.

“Babysitting! You missed an interview because you’re babysitting? No. I can’t believe this. I cannot believe this. You know this isn’t just your career—mine is affected, too. I swear, I’m not going to invite you to Thanksgiving dinner this year.”

He smiled into the phone. “You know, that’s what I love about you, Denise. You don’t let work get in the way of friendship.”

“Oh, shut up,” she muttered. “You put me in a real bad way with your publicist. That idiot. He wants to blame me, if you can believe it, just so
you
look good.”

“Thanks. I appreciate you taking one for the team like this.”

“Taking one for the team?” She snorted. “You realize I have other clients besides you, right?”

“Yeah, but you don’t invite any other clients to your son’s birthday parties.”

She sighed heavily into the phone.

“Relax, Denise. Jeez, you’re uptight.”

“It’s my job,” she muttered. “And since when aren’t you as uptight about your career as I am? At least tell me you’re doing this as part of some character study for the movie.”

“Right. Of course.” He forced a chuckle he wasn’t feeling. “Do you honestly think I would offer to babysit for a beautiful preschool teacher I hardly know?”
Oops.
He was dead meat.

“Beautiful? I definitely don’t like the sound of that. What did I tell you about keeping your pants zipped? You’re not thinking with your brain that’s for sure. Ben, you know how this is going to look, right? It’s going to look sordid. I mean, an innocent preschool teacher, for heaven’s sake!”

“I know what she is,” he snapped. “And it’s not sordid.”

Denise paused for a minute. When she began speaking again, her voice softened and sounded more restrained. “Look, people don’t want to read about celebrities dating preschool teachers anyway. Boring as all get-out. Why can’t you be your old self and mingle with that Celia Simons woman? If you get the role, you might be working with her. She’s up for the part of the doctor who’ll be helping your sick child. Now
that
would be exciting. The public eats it up when two actors working on a movie have something going on offscreen. She’s very attractive, too.”

Ben kicked the chair leg with the toe of his shoe. “She’s okay,” he mumbled.

“Okay? What’s the matter with you? She’s better than okay. She’s a former model.”

“Sandra looks like a model.”

“Who’s Sandra?”

“The preschool teacher.”

“Are we back to her again? Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Is that what you want? You want me dead?”

“Of course I don’t want you dead. You know how hard it is to get a decent agent?”

There was an immediate silence.

“Hello?” he asked, tapping a fingernail into the phone.

Denise sighed again. “I’m here. This isn’t funny, Ben. I’m worried about you. You put your career on the line for this woman, missing that interview. You’ve never done anything like that. Ever. What does she really want from you, anyway?”

“I’d say free babysitting at the moment,” he quipped, trying to lighten the mood between them.

“Cut it out. I’m serious. This Sandra is either infatuated with your superstar persona and is trying to milk you for whatever she can get, or…”

“Or what?” he prompted.

“Or it’s much worse. She could simply be a nice woman—a
mother
—who’s looking for a commitment for herself and her child. Can you really accept either scenario?”

He rubbed his free hand over his face, needing to digest what his agent was telling him. It ate up his insides to hear it spoken out loud, but it was the same thing he’d told himself this past weekend. Sandra might have flirted with him, but she’d made it clear she wasn’t infatuated with his celebrity status. She’d been hurt enough by her ex-husband, so she wasn’t looking for a casual love affair. But that was all he was capable of. He could never be the kind of husband or father of her child she deserved.

He looked over again at Sandra’s daughter, that sweet, chocolate pudding–eating daughter of hers. After he went back to Hollywood, life would go on for her. There would be some other man in Sandra’s life who would bring her daughter chocolate pudding before long. The idea of not seeing her or Sandra again suddenly made him feel sick. He didn’t know what he wanted or what he was capable of anymore. But he did know he was a first-class screwup when it came to real life. He knew better than to screw up Sandra’s life.

“Okay, Ben,” Denise said gently. “I’m going to hang up. I guess I’ve left you with enough to think about for tonight.”

For tonight?
Ben could only be so lucky. He was afraid he’d be thinking about this for the rest of his life.

Chapter Nine

The house appeared normal enough when Sandra walked in.

Even the kitchen was still in one piece—aside from the empty chocolate pudding cups on her kitchen table and the entire trunk of Hannah’s dress-up clothes spewed all over the floor. Everything seemed too quiet and peaceful.

Taking another cautious step forward, Sandra scanned the kitchen counter. No notes that anyone had been rushed to the hospital. That was a good, normal sign, too. But one glimpse in the family room reminded her that normalcy wasn’t within her grasp anymore. Last year’s Sexiest Man Alive was asleep on her sofa. Definitely not normal.

She tiptoed over to where Ben was sprawled out with abandon and just stared at him. She could really gaze at him all night like this. As far as she was concerned, he was still the sexiest man alive—drop-dead gorgeous—even in sleep, without those smiling, green eyes open and warming the very center of her soul.

She shook her head. Ben seemed to be making her just as melodramatic as he was.

With a stab of tenderness, she noticed he had a small clump of pink Play-Doh in his hair. It hit her then how much he’d come to mean to her. How much she’d come to depend on him. In only a short amount of time, he’d made more of an impact on her life—as well as Hannah’s—than her ex-husband had in over four years.

And their time together was almost up.

She could practically hear the minute hand ticking away. Ben would be leaving town soon to go back to his moviemaking career, back to his Hollywood friends and extravagant parties, without her ever having the chance to express how she felt about him.

She didn’t even know what she felt. Was it infatuation? Friendship? Or something deeper? She was almost afraid to recognize it.

She heaved a frustrated sigh. She didn’t want to be so drawn to him—too dangerous a territory—but kneeling down, she gave in to the urge to be close to him. It might be her last chance, really. She hesitated only a second, then as if in slow motion, her hand went out and just barely touched his smooth hair. That simple contact made her heart leap. When he didn’t show any signs of stirring, she grew bold and let the tips of her fingers travel along his rough cheeks and down his squared chin. She knew she was tempting fate, but having him to herself like this was too good to pass up. Gazing at his mouth, she allowed the pad of her thumb to run ever so slightly under the line of his bottom lip, remembering how amazing it had felt when he’d kissed her.

Then Ben’s eyes flew open.

Her hand snapped back as if he’d bite, but he reached out and brought it back to his cheek. “Now, that’s the kind of wake-up a man could get used to,” he said with a sleepy grin. “Among other things.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

She drew a wobbly breath. “I, um…I didn’t… You had Play-Doh in your hair,” she managed, her heart thumping so hard she could hear it.

“Leave it. It’s my battle scar.”

She frowned, able to tug her hand away from his face but not out of his grasp. “Was Hannah that bad?”

“No, she was that fun. In fact, you’re going to have a hard act to follow after my dramatic reading of
Green Eggs and Ham
. Your kid was killing me with cuteness the whole night. She even told me I was making her tummy say thank-you for all the chocolate pudding I gave her.”

She tried to smile, but her nerves couldn’t settle down while he still held on to her hand. “I’m glad to hear that. You…you didn’t have any problems, then?”

“Problems?” He shook his head. “Hannah’s such an angel even a reject like me could do the job.”

“You’re not a reject, Ben,” she said, surprised at his low opinion of himself. “You’re… Look, I know I haven’t told you this before, but I’ve noticed you’re very good with children—with Hannah especially. I’m sorry if I’ve led you to believe otherwise.”

He didn’t look like he believed her or even heard her, just studied their joined hands without saying a word. Finally he looked up, but with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “So, how was work, honey?”

She tried to laugh at his playful joke, but it got stuck in her throat. She loved the way his question sounded too much, as if they were a real married couple, so domestic and comforting. What she realized was missing with Steve from day one. There had never been anything remotely domestic or comforting in their marriage. Only mistrust and frustration.

“Work was fine,” she answered shakily. “There was a good turnout and a lot of the parents commented how they loved the new look of the rooms. I think it went well largely thanks to you and your help with painting. Your help with everything.”

His face was close to hers—it was really no effort at all—so she leaned in and kissed him a soft thank-you on the cheek. She felt him stiffen, but she only pulled back enough to break contact with his skin. His clean scent was making her dizzy—or maybe it was just him. She froze, heart in her throat, deciding whether to take a chance. Tossing aside inhibition, she brought her mouth back to his cheek and began lightly kissing a path to his mouth.

Ben never moved, and she wondered what must be going on in his mind. But when her lips finally made contact with his, he kissed her back, one of those soft, lingering kisses that left her limp. He put his arms around her, pulling her half on top of him, and his kiss grew stronger. A kiss filled with more passion than she’d realized she could ignite in a man. She knew where this was heading. There was no question they were on the same page. But she needed time to think. She couldn’t make love to him, not to this man, this movie star. Not now. Could she? She was just lonely, and he was just…
perfect
. In every way. She realized she wanted him more than ever. On a sigh, she sank deeper into his mouth, then reached between them and began unbuttoning his shirt. Four buttons down, Ben covered her hands with his. “I can’t,” he whispered against her mouth.

Still feeling drugged from his kisses, she slowly pulled back her head and blinked several times, hoping it would clear her mind and perhaps unclog her ears. “I… What?”

He didn’t answer. He shifted her away and sat up with a groan.

She licked her lips, and her breath caught when she tasted him again. “Did you say, ‘I can’t’?” she asked, her world feeling tilted.

“Yeah.” There was doubt in his voice, but he looked away and started buttoning up his shirt. “I am obviously very attracted to you. Believe me, if you were any other woman…”

She just looked at him. What did he mean? What was he trying to say?

He paused, his fingers lingering at the last button of his shirt, still not meeting her eyes. “I think that maybe it’s not such a hot idea for the two of us to ruin what we have here.”

Sandra scrambled to stand up, clumsy because of the pain she felt at his gentle rebuff. But just as fast, she swallowed the hurt, smoothing her hair behind her ears. “You’re absolutely right,” she rushed out.

Ben jumped up, too, and reached for her, pulling back when he saw her stiffen. “Sandals, it’s not that I—”

“No, I understand,” she said coolly.
Ha!
At least she sounded in control. “Really. You’re right. You’re going to be leaving next week and…well, friends last longer, right? You can never have enough friends.” She jabbed her blouse into her pants.

What was she doing? She shouldn’t act so scornful. Ben was thinking sensibly. Ha, like they really had a shot at something. He was protecting her. Even if he decided to stay in town longer, he would probably get bored from the lack of glitzy lifestyle and leave anyway. Just like Steve had. And then she’d be left with another broken heart.

She walked over to the door, hinting he should save them any further embarrassing awkwardness. Her head suddenly ached, and she didn’t want any more of his sensible talk. She wasn’t feeling very sensible at the moment. In fact, she wanted to throw something. But sensible Ben stood his ground. So she grabbed his jacket and held it out for him. That had him moving.

He walked up to her and took the jacket with a look of regret. “Look, Sandals, there are things you don’t—”

She shot out her hand in a businesslike manner, relieved when it didn’t quiver. “Friends?”

Ben sighed but eventually took her hand in his. “Of course.”

“I’m glad, because I think you’re wonderful,” she said truthfully. “I couldn’t think of a better person I would want to remain friends with. I really am grateful. Your friendship has meant a lot to me.”

He nodded. “Me, too.”

Unable to say more, she forced a smile and opened the door.

…

As if it were happening to someone else, Ben stood helplessly as the front door closed in his face. A nauseated sickness began to take root in his stomach. But he made himself turn away and head back to his car, afraid he’d do something completely out of character like barge back inside and sweep her into his arms—or worse, toss his cookies on her doorstep.

How could something so damn wonderful turn so damn terrible so damn fast?

He shouldn’t have kissed her back. He knew that inside and out. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her feelings. But he couldn’t resist her—her eyes, her smile, the feel of her in his arms. That peachy scent of hers was like his kryptonite. Then, with one quick, rational thought about his agent’s warning, he’d told her they should just be friends.

Talk about out of character.

It was gut-wrenching to see the icy wall Sandra slammed up between them, as if they were suddenly work acquaintances again instead of intimate would-be lovers. She’d somehow managed to give him friendship and gratefulness, though. He had that. He might not have Sandra in his arms anymore, but he had a new best buddy and her undying gratitude.
Gee whiz, what more could I want?

Well, he didn’t want friendship. And he certainly didn’t want gratitude. He wanted… He wanted…

He wanted that movie role.

Yeah, that’s it
, he thought, surrounding himself in an armor of cynicism. He wanted that stupid part more than anything. More than
anyone
. How could he compete with all that baggage her ex-husband gave her anyway? Ben had a career to worry about. He couldn’t be worrying about some cold woman and her child now. His life was just gaining momentum. He’d be on top of the world soon. His fans were waiting for something incredible from him—and he wasn’t about to disappoint them. So he’d sacrifice disappointing one woman versus millions of fans. Sandra couldn’t be in his life. And definitely not some kid of hers, either. What the heck did he know about raising a child? A spoiled child, too. A child…

A child who was the sweetest, most loving little person he’d ever had the pleasure to spend time with. And her mother, who when her defenses were down and she shared her most intimate thoughts with him, could be the warmest and most wonderful human being he’d ever met in his entire life.

No! No way!
Breathing heavily, he stood and looked down at his car, not seeing anything but Sandra’s beautiful, crestfallen face. He kicked the rim of the tire with his foot. The shooting pain was well deserved. Leaning both hands on the hood, he took a deep, defeated breath.

Yes. Yes way. He
did
worry about Sandra, and he
did
care for her, and he
did
like her, and most of all, he
did
want her. He wanted her, all right—not only for tonight or while he was in town—but all the way. All. The. Way. He was in love with her, and he loved her child, too. For the first time in his star-studded life, he was in love—no acting necessary.

He closed his eyes, allowing the realization to sink in further, wondering what he should do next and what Sandra’s reaction to that knowledge would be. Then, in the midst of his mental turmoil, another realization transpired, and his shoulders slumped farther.

His agent was going to kill him.

…

“There’s a woman with murder in her eyes waiting to see you.”

Sandra almost dropped her bag of groceries as she walked through the school door. “Murder? Oh, no. Is she a parent?”

Carol shook her head.

Sandra expelled a long breath. Thank goodness for small favors. But still, something else she had to deal with nonetheless. Last night’s disaster with Ben hadn’t left her mind in the best condition. She had forgotten about snack this morning—something she’d never done—and had to do a quick run to the supermarket. She barely had time to come back down from that problem and now she was smack in the middle of another. She could only hope it would take her mind off Ben.

“Well, who is it?” she asked.

Carol made a face. “She said she represents Ben.”

So much for taking her mind off Ben. “His agent is in my office?”

“Yeah, and boy, is she a peach. You’re going to have your hands full with that one.” Carol took the bunch of bananas from her grocery bag and shrugged. “I’d love to go in there as reinforcement, but I’m going to have ten hungry preschoolers looking for snack as soon as my aide brings them in from recess.”

Sandra leaned back and lightly banged her head against the wall. “This is terrible. I’m having the worst day,” she mumbled to herself.

Carol checked her watch. “Your morning’s half over. How much worse could it get?”

“Since when did you become a glass-is-half-full kind of person? What am I going to say to a Hollywood agent? Isn’t there some kind of lingo I should know first?”

“Sandra, if there’s one person who can hold her own, it’s you.” Carol held up the bananas. “Besides, we all have our own battles. You’d think these kids never saw food before. Hopefully I won’t get my hand bitten off.” She spun around and tossed back, “Have fun.”

“Thanks,” she murmured.

Sandra placed the bag on the floor and braced herself for a serious mowing over as she walked into her office. Luckily, she had a moment before the onslaught, because Ben’s agent was talking on her cell phone. Sandra closed the door behind her, and the woman, so engrossed in what the other person on the line was saying, didn’t glance up.

Ben’s agent was a petite sort of woman with a blondish-brown mixture of heavily highlighted hair worn in a sleek, chin-length bob. Her clothes were nice—not Coco Chanel nice, but neat and of good quality. The woman shifted and uncrossed her legs, nodding into the phone. Her head was still bowed, and she held a finger in her opposite ear. Sandra wondered if the woman even knew she was standing there, so Sandra cleared her throat. His agent responded by turning her back.