Love and Rumors: A Summer Sisters Beach Reads Contemporary Romance (The Summer Sisters Book 1) (16 page)

He eased himself into a worn armchair that looked as though it had been built in the 1930s and had seen a lot of sitting. The cushion was saggy enough to pull him in deep, which felt comforting after their crazy ride across the countryside. His headache had been coming and going all morning, but now it was forcing a major comeback. A quick rest here in this chair, head tipped back and eyes closed, would do the trick. That and a glass of water.

Something stirred the air beside him and he opened his eyes, realizing he’d drifted off for a few minutes. Hailey stood over him, camera poised.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He rubbed his hands over his face. Hailey was still perched over him, focused intently on something she saw. Saw on him? Within him?

He wiped his face again in case he’d drooled during his nap.

She crept back, placing her camera on the nearby worktable. She’d set up a backdrop in the middle of the room, the corners of the sheet tied to hooks set in the ceiling. She was ready, and he was the superstar keeping her waiting.

He jumped out of the chair, catching a can of Coke she chucked at him.

“You look like you need a pick-me-up.” She leaned against the table, cracking a can for herself.

Not diet Coke. Interesting woman.

“Thanks.” He pointed to the Mentos she was eating. “Haven’t you seen those YouTube videos where they mix Coke and Mentos to make rockets?”

“I think that was diet Coke.”

“Still. Aren’t you afraid your head is going to explode?”

“Yeah, like, every day. It’s called living on the edge.” She tossed him the pack of Mentos and rearranged a few pieces of equipment.

He threw the mints back to her without taking one, and moseyed over to her worktable, waiting for her command. He glanced at her for permission before flipping through the stacks of enlarged images she’d sorted into piles. The first seemed to be “please anyone” shots he’d seen around town in stores, posters, and hotels. Typical stuff the tourists wanted for a memento, such as a windswept tree, close-up of a chipmunk, an old wood boat gleaming in its berth, or a canoe tied to a weathered dock with mist floating around it. All pretty shots, but not particularly original for these parts. In his peripheral vision he saw Hailey lift her camera and focus it on him.

The next pile was still distinctly Muskoka, but the images were slightly more unusual. Another shot of the steamship
Segwun
, but taken from a low vantage point, with some sort of filter to make the great ship appear dominating and brooding. Massive.

He compared it with the bright and innocent shot from the first pile, hardly believing it was the same boat, taken by the same photographer, likely on the same day.

He flipped through more shots, laughing at a photo of a cow. Instead of focusing on its face, nuzzled up close to the camera, Hailey had shot focused in from behind, catching the cow’s head turned inquisitively ,as if to say, what are you doing back there? A vet would think this was hilarious.

Finn’s nature nut had a sense of humor.

She moved the armchair he’d napped in so it was in front of the background. “Ready?” she asked.

“As ever.”

She adjusted a few lights as he made himself comfortable in the chair again.

“Are those photos for a show?” He pointed to her worktable.

She nodded, silent.

“I like that your studio is unpretentious.”

Hailey blinked at him.

“It doesn’t scream
I’m an artist!
It reminds me of a buddy from film school, Bruce.”

“Are you still in touch with him?”

“Not really. Not since I chose the more commercial route.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Sure. We always miss those we leave behind, don’t we?” Like his two brothers. One alive, one dead. Finn shook his head, thinking how much different his life would be if he hadn’t chosen to follow the fickle stream of money, and how he’d simply traded one kind of deficit for another.

She stood in front of him and reached up to adjust a light, her knee brushing his. “I’m glad you didn’t shave.”

He rubbed his chin self-consciously, inhaling her scent. “Actually, do you have a razor?”

“Later. I need some shots of you awake in this thing. Then we’ll get into more traditional head shots, etc.” She adjusted his arms on the chair, moving him into a take-charge, I’m-in-command position. Hell, he felt powerful and manly just sitting this way. He grinned up at Hailey and moved his arm from where she’d placed it.

She readjusted it on the armrest again. “That desperate for a woman’s touch?” she asked, and gave him a playful pinch.

Finn flinched, laughing. “It’s like in those improv games where someone else directs your body.” He’d always hated them, but for some reason, the way Hailey moved his body didn’t bother him. She was respectful and had that cute, thoughtful expression when she posed him.

“I’m sorry.” Hailey stood back. “I could try and direct you verbally, but I don’t know what I want yet. Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” He flashed her a killer smile and she hesitated, cheeks flushed, before she adjusted his position ever so slightly, her cool hands sure, her touch tentative yet firm.

She vanished behind a large camera, tweaking, making adjustments. She took shot after shot, her physical directing changing into verbal commands as they fell into a rhythm. Her body relaxed and her moves became more fluid.

“That’s good, take a break.” She finally arched her back and twisted a lens off the camera she’d been using.

“We’re done?”

“Nope. But I need to think through what I want next. Do you have a list of specific shots you need?”

He knew the laundry list Derek would want, but couldn’t bring himself to interrupt her flow to get stagnant pictures everyone else had. They would be like the pile of commercial shots she had on her table, and he wanted to be in the other pile. Finn wanted to see what she could do. He wanted to be someone who stood out and wouldn’t be overlooked. Plus he wanted to know how Hailey saw him.

“Give me something different, Hailey.”

“Can do.” She finished her Coke, her head tipped back, exposing her long throat.

“I haven’t met anyone who consumes sugar in a long time,” he commented and she shifted her weight in a way that caused him to apologize.

“Canada’s getting to you. That’s twice in the past two hours that you’ve said you’re sorry. A new record, I presume.”

He laughed and fell back in the chair, his legs splayed. He liked this woman. Liked her wit and willingness to poke at him. None of that skittering about to appease him as some women did.

“So, um, how bad were those shots in the tabloids?” she asked.

“Of us?”

He left the chair, moving closer, trying to figure her out. Was this his chance to ask her to collaborate with him and sell stories to the tabloids? Because right now, those rags felt miles away from this moment. From Hailey. And they were the last thing he wanted to think about.

“I’m tired of trying to stay one step ahead of my reputation,” he said. “And I’m tired of having to strategize my relationships with people and commoditize our time into something that can be leveraged in my career.” He shook his head and stepped to her worktable. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I meant…” He drove a hand through his hair. “Don’t pay any mind to what gets printed in the tabloids. The people who truly love you will understand.”

“Understand what?”

“All of it.”

“What are you saying?”

“What are you asking?”

They stared at each other for a few moments.

“Okay, fine.” He crossed his arms. “The lighting in the shot was kind of crappy. And it was grainy, but those kinds of shots are the ones that the audience really goes wild for. They tend to think they’re seeing something that’s—”

“No,” she said impatiently. “I meant, like, was it…
bad
?”

He stared at her, his heart catching. She was afraid to be seen kissing him and didn’t want her private life smeared across the planet. She also probably didn’t want to be associated with the likes of him. Honestly, he couldn’t blame her even though the knowledge hurt worse than being smacked by a microphone boom.

He rested a hand on her elbow and watched her struggle with her emotions. They were flipping across her face, one by one. Fear. Frustration. Curiosity. Maybe a touch of anger and pride, as well.

“I’m sorry, Hailey. I didn’t mean for you to be a casualty.”

She straightened. “I’m not a casualty. And I’m not a victim. But I don’t like being part of some stupid publicity stunt.”

He clenched his jaw. “I know that. The photo wasn’t my idea.”

“And you’re not too good for me, Finian Alexander. Your fame doesn’t define you. You’re just as human as everyone else.”

He grabbed her by the elbows and brought her close enough to kiss, not sure what move he should make, only knowing that she’d successfully crawled under his skin once again.

Her eyes flashed as she pushed him away. “Show me the photos. I need to see what everyone in my world is going to be talking about—because trust me, they will be.”

* * *

Hailey opened a browser on her computer and Finian reached over to take the keyboard, sending shivers up her arm.

“There.” He propped himself against the desk, his jaw set, eyes on her.

Slowly, she turned her attention to the webpage.

“Oh, wow.” There she was stretched out in the grass, kissing Finian. Her heart raced and excess heat leaked up her throat and across her cheeks.

There it was for the world to see. Her. Kissing a movie star. Like in some romantic comedy where the famous guy falls in love with some girl wishing for a real life. Hailey nearly sighed.

It was a beautiful photo. Yes, a tad grainy, but gorgeous nevertheless.

Finian’s eyes roved over her, assessing. “Think how much that photographer got paid.”

“For exposing our personal lives.” She shoved her chair back, and stood.

He gave her a smile, a glint in his eyes.

“
My
personal life,” she corrected.

“If you’re with me, Hailey, it comes with the turf.”

“I’m not
with
you.” She stared at her computer. This was fiction. Not real life. Real life was gritty and full of obligations and duties and burdens. It wasn’t being swept away and falling in love. Or, in her case, lusting over a guy who would leave her once his vacation was up, and then never think of her again. “If this was my personal life, it would imply that you and I are something.”

“We’re not?”

“What’s my last name?”

“Summer.”

“Okay, that was probably an easy one. Middle name?”

“Something…classic, strong, feminine.”

“Rose.”

“Told you so.”

“What’s my favorite color?”

“Something soft, like a cream or light yellow.”

“How did you know?”

“The color is everywhere.”

“My point is that you don’t know me. You don’t know what I like. So, pretending that this photo actually means something—”

“I know you like this.” He cupped the back of her neck, pulled her body against his and gave her a long, lingering kiss.

Yeah, okay. He was right. She liked that. A lot.

She pushed him away. The kiss—
kisses
—had been errors. Signs of her temporarily leaving reality and getting swept into the distraction that was his life. He starred in movies that distracted people across the world from things like the bills they had to pay and the turtles that needed saving. And that was his life, too, one big, easy distraction, where he always won against the bad guys.

Not her world. Not at all.

“Leaving reality is your thing, isn’t it?” she asked. “Acting as if there are no responsibilities in the world?”

“That’s my job. Not who I am.”

She yanked her hand away when he tried to take it. “Don’t you get it? I’m a real person, Finian. Living a real life.” Her phone’s screen lit up with another Finian-spotting text, and she flipped it onto its face. “You can’t just sweep in here and decide that I’m somehow yours. I’m not. And I never will be, because I live in the real world.”

He grabbed her hand again, this time more firmly. “I like hanging out with you, Hailey.”

“I never said I didn’t like hanging out with you, Finian. But that’s not the point.”

“Then hang out with me.” His jaw was tight with an emotion she couldn’t identify. There was a sincerity in his eyes that couldn’t be faked. Or could it? He hadn’t won any Oscars yet, but how could she be sure what was real when dealing with an actor?

He waved an arm to encompass her studio. “This is nice. No, not nice. Refreshing. Real. Genuine. Like you. I didn’t realize how much I needed downtime, Hailey. Time out of the spotlight.” He flinched, as if struck by his own words. “I need grounding, Hailey.” He fell into the armchair, his palms rubbing his face. “I need to touch base and figure out where I’m heading.”

She sighed and crossed her arms. She wasn’t here to ground him or be his base to touch. As much as she wanted to hang out with him and see if something real happened between them, she knew they were from two different realities and needed different things in their lives.

He needed fame and downtime. She needed money.

She turned away as his cell phone rang in his bag. “I have to empty my memory stick. Please change into something more badass.” She glanced at his jeans and T-shirt. “Maybe add some black leather. Oh, and don’t shave. Not yet.”

She needed a reminder of who he really was. Not this mixed-up man with sincere eyes who liked hanging out with her. He was too tempting. Too
real
.

She focused on her computer, her hands shaking as she began transferring photos to the hard drive. Behind her, Finian answered his phone.

“I know,” he said. His voice had a certain reserve she hadn’t heard before. Kind of like a husband preparing for a dressing down. She almost turned to look, to make sure his ring finger was still bare.

She slipped to the tabloid page as the photos transferred, hoping Finian wouldn’t notice. She took a screen shot of the article and read the headline. Finian Alexander Mending Broken Heart with Local Gal. The one line below simply said, “After last week’s breakup with movie star Jessica Cartmill, Finian Alexander takes up with an unknown woman in Canada to distract him from his broken heart.”