Playing the Part (17 page)

“Me, too. The rules never seemed to stick when it came to the two of us,” she said.

“That’s because we had to create a new set. Totally custom, for just the two of us.”

She nodded. “I like the sound of that. Have you figured out the new rule book yet?”

“Love each other. Trust each other. Have lots of sex.”

He laughed at her eye roll and drew her in for a slow, soft kiss with just a hint of tongue. He pulled back and looked at her, the woman who saw behind the image—the only person he ever wanted to see that guy—and he was grateful she loved what she saw. “I think that’s all we need.”

Epilogue

One year later.

The Oscars were over the top.

Piper sat next to Mick in the front row of the Dolby Theater, wearing yet another gown picked out by her lover of over a year. This one, black and full-length with a short, sweeping train, featured a plunging sheer back with a delicate design of lace barely covering any part of her skin. Mick made the final decision, declaring that if he lost, everyone would be distracted from his defeat by his hot girlfriend. He’d then dismissed the sales clerk, locked the door, and made sure they could have limo sex in the dress—just in case the mood struck them again.

Life with Mick Blackwell was anything but ordinary.

It hadn’t been easy, either. Lives on opposite coasts had proved to be difficult and the separation almost unbearable. Finally, two months ago, she’d packed up her apartment and moved herself into the Spanish-style home they’d chosen together in the Hollywood hills. She could write anywhere—her new publisher loved what she wrote—in fact, she wrote better when she was with Mick. They hadn’t killed each over him squeezing the toothpaste in the middle or over her subscription to
People
and were even now talking about getting a dog. It was getting downright domestic in the Blackwell-James household.

“Hey, are you checking out Matt Damon’s ass again?” Mick murmured into her ear, his breath hot and teasing against her skin. She didn’t have to turn to know he wore the sexy, secret grin he wore only for her. Lucky girl.

“Yep. It’s
almost
as nice as yours,” she murmured back to him, ducking away from the playful nibble he attempted on her tender earlobe. “You need to behave. The cameras have been on us all night.”

“Let them film us. All they’ll see is that I love you and I’m a winner even if I don’t take home the golden bald dude.”

Piper looked into his eyes, checking the green-gold depths for any signs of nerves or worry, but saw nothing except his usual mischief and love. Many had scoffed when his name had shown up on the nomination list for Best Actor, but Mick had taken it all in stride with his usual wit and confidence. Only in their most private moments did she see doubt creep into his eyes as he shared his fears and worries. That Mick,
her
Mick, belonged only to her, and she knew how blessed she was to know the man behind the image.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispered. “Your production company, the new projects, and your new Dark movie. You’ve worked so hard. You deserve to be here tonight. No matter how it turns out.”

“I—” Mick began, but his words were cut off by co-hosts returning to the stage.

“And now…the nominees for Best Actor.”

Piper clutched Mick’s hand, returning his excited grin when he glanced at her before returning his attention to the stage. He was the epitome of Hollywood royalty, dressed in a custom-made tux and graciously acknowledging the well-wishes from the people seated around them when his name was read along with the other nominees.

The envelope was opened. A hush fell over the crowd and silence hung like LA smog, thick and impermeable. Piper felt sick and overheated, her blood pounding and her palms growing damp with anticipation.

“And the winner is…Mick Blackwell, for
Regan’s Gift
.”

The next few moments were a blur. Mick bowing his head briefly before standing and pulling her to him in a tight embrace, a murmured, “I love you” breathed against her ear before he headed for the stage, tugging her along with him.

“Come on. I need you with me,” Mick shouted over the clapping, and she could do nothing but follow him to the stage, under the glaring lights and surrounded by all those glittering people. He accepted the statuette, thanked his presenter, and stood before the microphone.

“Now, you all know I never do anything but the way I want to, and tonight is no different, so you’ll have to bear with me.” Mick pointed a finger at the orchestra conductor. “And go ahead and shut off your timer, because this is going to take a few more minutes than usual.”

He flashed his usual sexy grin, the one that convinced everyone to do whatever he wanted, and laughed when the conductor threw his hands in the air in agreement and the crowd clapped in approval. Piper couldn’t believe it—even the Oscar committee and its employees were putty in his hands.

“I know you’re supposed to thank all these people when you win an Oscar. I have one of those speeches prepared, I swear to God, but it’ll have to wait because the person I need to thank the most is right here beside me.” He glanced her way, his smile wicked and so very sweet. “And I bet she wants to kill me right now for dragging her up here, so I’ll get right to the point.”

He placed the statuette on the little podium and turned to face her, his expression suddenly serious and tender. Piper could feel her emotions building and rising with the burn of the tears in her eyes. She was really glad her eye makeup was waterproof because he was going to make her cry on a nationally televised program. Bastard.

“Piper, you’re a terrible acting coach…” His comment was punctuated by low laughter from the audience. “But you’re a genius with words. You have an amazing heart, you’re so smart and strong. You kick my ass when I get out of line, you’ve got my back against the world, and those glasses still turn me on like nothing else.”

More laugher skittered through the crowd, then quickly dissipated.

“I love you. And by that I mean you are the only damn thing in my life that ever made sense, and I want to keep it that way.”

Mick reached into his pocket, pulling out a little blue box—Tiffany’s blue—and the full impact of what he was doing began to sink into her overloaded brain. He lowered himself to one knee, and her first inclination was to follow him to the ground because she sure as hell couldn’t feel her legs any longer. Luckily the audience had gone silent because she could barely make out what he was saying over the adrenaline rushing through her system.

“I’m not the writer, so I’ll keep this simple. I love you. Marry me. Please.” He opened the box and pulled out a ring. It was beautiful, sparkling like fire under stage lights, and looked like it was the size of a small car. But Mick was what grabbed her attention. His expression was open, as vulnerable as a child. This wasn’t the actor playing a part or the shrewd businessman seeking out publicity to make sure he trended higher—this was just Mick,
her
Mick. The man who loved her and had just declared it to the whole damn world.

She’d written millions of words, but only one came to mind at the moment.

Sometimes one word was enough.

“Yes.”

Mick’s grin took up his whole face as he slipped on the ring, stood, and pulled her into his arms. Their kiss was hot, wet, and with lots of tongue—completely inappropriate for television—but she didn’t care. Piper poured everything into that kiss, and Mick answered her with his own passion. God, she loved this man. It was like living in a damn movie…or a romance novel.

Breaking off the kiss, Piper acknowledged the crowd who were now on their feet clapping loudly to the backdrop of the orchestra playing a rousing version of the “Wedding March.” Still in a daze, she let him lead her off the stage, following a woman with a clipboard and a headset into a small green room.

“Five minutes, Mr. Blackwell. I’ll need you in the press room after that.” The woman gave them both a smile before moving to close the door. “And…congratulations.”

They turned to each other then, this kiss softer, sweeter. Between them, every touch of their lips, whether they were in “can’t get your clothes off fast enough” mode or on a lazy Sunday morning with nowhere to go, was a total possession of each other.

“I love you,” she said, cherishing the way his eyes lit up when she said those words.

“You’re not mad?” Mick traced her cheek with his fingertips, and she shivered at the touch.

“No. I shouldn’t expect anything less from you. You never follow anyone’s rules but your own, do you?”

“Something you can get used to?”

“Yes.” She kissed the side of his mouth.

“Something you can live with?”

Piper leaned back, looking into Mick’s eyes—imperfect, stubborn, sexy, and hers. All hers.

“For the rest of my life.”

Acknowledgments

A huge thank you to my editor Alethea Spiridon Hopson for being so wonderful to me. I don’t know how I got so lucky.

Thank you to Rochelle French for working so tirelessly on this book. You are the bomb.

Thanks to Kimberly Kincaid, Avery Flynn, and Emmie Dark for putting up with my crazy writing life. I couldn’t ask for a better bunch of talented, smart, and fabulous women to have for critique partners.

I want to thank Heather Howland for an amazing cover—love it!

Kisses and hugs to the Main Man, Little Man, and Lulu. I couldn’t do this without your love and support. Thanks for letting me disappear into the writing cave and pursue my passion.

And my readers…you guys make it all worthwhile. Thank you for reading my stories and letting me know when they touch you. I work hard every day to never let you down.

About the Author

Robin Covington, labeled an “auto-buy author” by
New York Times
bestselling authors Robyn Carr and Carly Phillips, writes sizzling hot contemporary and paranormal romance.
When she’s not exploring the themes of fooling around and falling in love, she’s collecting tasty man candy, indulging in a little comic book geek love, and stalking Joe Mangianello.

Robin is a member of the Romance Writers of America, the Washington Romance Writers, a faculty member at Romance University, a member of the Waterworld Mermaids, and a contributor to the Happy Ever After blog at USA TODAY. You can find Robin on her
website
,
Facebook
,
Pinterest
, and
Twitter
.

Robin lives in Maryland with her hilarious husband, brilliant children, and ginormous puppy.

Robin loves to hear from her readers. You can contact her at
[email protected]
.

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