Red Carpet Romance (23 page)

Susanna had smoothed everything over
with her sister, Annie, who seemed happy to see Susie smiling again. The
closing on the house was near and soon the estate would be settled.

During the day, Quinn went over his
lines, sometimes with Susanna cuing him and sometimes alone. When he was
working out at the gym or studying his part, she sketched and cooked. She put
them back on his strict diet so he would be the right weight for the camera.
They took long walks through the park, still ate ice cream at the Broadway
Creamery, just not as often, and made passionate love night after night.

Susanna put thoughts of the future
out of her mind and focused on each day. She lost herself in her sketches, most
of which were of Quinn. She drew him in jeans, in a suit, working out, asleep
in bed, any way she could find him when he wasn’t looking. He was her favorite
subject.

One night he came home with a gift.
A big box of colored pencils, chalks, and a real sketchpad the size of
letterhead to replace the skimpy little notebook she carried with her. She was
thrilled, touched by his support of her art. Though she didn’t think she was
much good, Quinn disagreed. Simply another quality she loved about him.

* * * *

While the reporters and cameras
loved them, across town on the East side there was one person who definitely
didn’t…Jaden Benedict. The runway-model-skinny author ground her teeth every
morning over coffee when she opened her paper to see Quinn and Susanna out on
the town, smiling, laughing, and dancing.
He’s
in love with her. Bitch!

Even
if I sell him the book, it’s too late now. She’s got her hooks in him. Damn!
She
paced in her apartment and lit a cigarette. Her mind was working at a hundred
miles an hour, searching for a plan.
Nope.
No way to get him now.
She stubbed the cigarette out in disgust and flopped
down on her black leather couch.

As she lay back against the cool
material, her mind grabbed an idea. Slowly a smile crossed her lips. After
snatching the paper off the coffee table for one more glance at the happy
couple, jealousy overwhelmed her, flowing into her heart. With the cold taste
of revenge in her mouth, Jaden picked up her phone.

* * * *

A muggy mid-August day didn’t slow
Quinn down. He bounded out of bed at seven o’clock and turned on his laptop.
Susanna rolled over and watched him.

“What’s up?”

“Checking to see if the money is in
my account yet.”
Today’s the day.

“What money?” She rubbed her eyes.

“The fifty grand. I’m getting a
certified check to give to Jaden today.”

“You meeting her for lunch again?”
Susanna propped herself up on her elbows.

Quinn’s gaze was drawn to her body
immediately. “You’re distracting me.”

“Should I cover up?”

“Hell no!” He laughed. She got out
of bed and slipped on her robe before padding to the window.

“Meeting her at Café Limoges again?”

“Yes.”

“Give me a ride. I’ll sit outside
and sketch. There are some interesting flowers there.”

“Taking your big sketchbook or the
dinky little one?” He picked up the small book she had left on the computer
table and started thumbing through it. “Okay if I look through this?”

“It’s not private or anything.”

“You’ve got a bunch of drawings of
me in here.”

“Are you surprised I find your body
fascinating?” She stood behind his chair with her hands on his shoulders and
leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“I’m flattered. As long as they stay
in your possession, I’m good.”

“Oh? And you think I’d sell them to
the media?” She padded into the kitchen to make coffee.

“Of course not, but if the book gets
dropped on the street or something…”

“I’ll leave it here if you prefer.”

“No, no, take it if you need it. I
trust you.” He handed the book back to her. “These are good.”

“Not really. They need work.” She
popped the book into her purse.

At noon, Bobby and Quinn dropped
Susanna at the Boat House where brilliant crimson geraniums were in bloom. Then
Quinn got out near the restaurant and walked the rest of the way. His step had never
been so light. A smile refused to leave his face as he shook hands with Jean
Marc.

“The lady awaits you. Beware, M.
Roberts. She does not look happy.”

Quinn turned to look at Jaden, and
he had to agree with the head waiter.
Uh
oh.
He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, but she pulled away.

“Hey, Jaden. What’s up?” Quinn
turned puzzled eyes to her.

“Where’s your little girlfriend?” A
sour expression pulled at her eyes and mouth.

“Susanna? Why would she be here?
This is business. Besides, we’re not joined at the hip.”

“According to the media you are.
When’s the wedding?”

“I have a certified check here for
fifty grand.” He slipped the envelope containing the check out of his pocket
and placed it on the table. “Are we doing business?”

“I can’t sell the book to you.”

Quinn’s mouth went dry. His pulse
kicked up and sweat broke out on his forehead. “Why not?”

A nasty gleam came into her eye.
“Because I sold it to someone else.”

“What? Why?” Quinn’s hand came down
on the table hard, making the silverware jump, knocking over an empty water
glass.

“I thought we were an item. I
thought we were going to go out, but then you had this chickie all along. You
were banging her while keeping me on the string. That’s a no-no in my book,
Quinn.”

“I never said we’d go out. In fact,
I told you I don’t mix personal and business.”

“I hope your chickie can write.
Because you’re not getting a book from this one.”

“Who’d you sell it to?”

“I can’t tell you that.” She avoided
his gaze, shifting in her seat.

“Why not?” His stare bored into her.

“Because…just because you want to
know.” An evil gleam of satisfaction glowed in her eyes.

“Come on, Jaden. You double-crossed
me. At least tell me who’s got it.” Quinn tried unsuccessfully to keep
desperation out of his voice.

“Why? So you can make a deal? Maybe
pay more and get your hands on it?”

“What’s wrong with that? It’s
business.” He fought to control his temper.

“He’ll never sell.” She sat back
against the booth, a smile of satisfaction settled on her lips.

“Are you so sure? Who is it?” Sweat
broke out in his palms.
I have to get
that book.

“You wanna know real bad, don’t
you?” The teasing look on her face made him want to slap her.

“Damn right I do. You owe me at
least that much.”

“I don’t owe you anything.” Anger
flashed in her eyes.

Don’t
make her mad, idiot.
“Please, Jaden.” The role of beggar did not sit well
with Quinn.

“Why not? You’ll find out in the
trades anyway. I sold it to Max Webster.”

“The producer?”

“Yeah. He told me he’s already got a
plan for it, too. And a leading man all picked out. So forget approaching him.
Gotta run. Too bad, Quinn. See ya around.” Jaden slipped out from behind the
table and left the restaurant.

Quinn’s emotions seesawed between
fury and sadness. He dialed Bobby and left the restaurant, planning to walk
home. Obsessed by his loss, Quinn forgot about Susanna sketching flowers in the
park. He realized later she had waited for him for three hours before walking
home.

“Quinn! What happened? Why didn’t
you answer your phone?”

He sat on the terrace with a half-empty
bottle of
Chivas Regal
in one hand
and an empty glass in the other. His gaze focused on the glass as he took his
time pouring, so as not to spill. Susanna knelt down next to him, her hand on
his knee. “What happened, honey?” She asked in a soft voice.

“Jaden Benedict…or should I call her
Arnold Benedict or Benedict Arnold. Whatever…sold the book to someone else. A
producer.”

“Is that bad? Can you call him and
ask for the part?”

“She said he already has a leading
man all picked out.” Quinn took a swig from the glass and placed the bottle on
the table.

“You’ve had too much to drink. Let
me get you to bed.” She tried to lift him up, but he pushed her away.

“I can walk by myself.” He stumbled
to his feet.

“Did she say who bought it?”

“You wouldn’t know him. Big time
producer. Max Webster.”

Susanna froze. Quinn turned to look
at her. “Heard of him, have you?”

She nodded.

“How would you…no.”

She nodded again.

“Your friend, Max, in the park is
Max Webster?”

She chewed her lip. “Maybe he’s a
different Max Webster.”

“Doubt it. Did you tell…oh my God.”
He stopped and looked at her. “You did! You told him. You told him about
BLIND LOVE,
didn’t you?” He leaned
against the wall.

“I…I…I was only chatting with him.
He was a friend, a father who needed an ear…” A flush stole up her neck and
into her cheeks. Her fingers picked at a cuticle.

“No, he wasn’t. He was shrewd,
crafty, Max Webster.” Quinn began to weave. “And you told him. Told him I
wanted the book, didn’t you?”

She nodded, tears forming in the
corners of her eyes.

“Told him about all the trouble I
was having finding a producer, didn’t you?”

She stood and looked at him. “I’m
sorry. I didn’t know.” She grasped the back of a chair for support.

“You told him everything…betrayed
me. Led him right in to snatch this away.” His eyes grew cold.

“Please Quinn, I didn’t know who he
was.” Tears began to run down her face.

“Don’t use your tears on me,
you…Jezebel...traitor. You’re the Benedict Arnold.” He stumbled over a baby toy
left unnoticed on the floor and kicked it against the wall. “Did he pay you?”

A look of horror came over her face.

“Maybe not. Still. You’re the reason
I’ve lost my chance…and I didn’t date her because of you. Because I was in love
with you.” He pointed a finger at her. A sob broke from Susanna’s throat.

“Don’t pretend you care. Not now.
It’s too late now.” His chin quivered, and his voice broke. “I trusted you, and
you betrayed me. You set me up.”

“No, no, I didn’t…I didn’t mean to.
I didn’t know…I…I…”

“Did you ever care for me at all?”
He looked at her with wide, wondering, hurt eyes.

“I loved you…I still do. Yes, I’ve
loved you all along. If I had known, I never would’ve said anything. I…please
you have to believe me.” Tears ran faster down her cheeks. She reached out to
touch his forearm, but he yanked it away as if her fingertips were flames.

“He played you for a fool, didn’t
he?”

“Yes, that bastard. When I get my
hands on him…”

“The damage is done. He owns the
book.”

“You’ll find another book, a better
one, one you can sell to a producer.”

He shook his head. “I don’t have the
heart for it now.” He chugged the rest of the scotch in the glass and stumbled
against the wall.

“Let me help you get to bed…you’ve
had too much…”

“Don’t touch me. Don’t come near
me.” Tears in the corners of his eyes were blinked back. “If you get near
me…I…I’ll fall under your spell again. I can’t resist you, but I can’t trust
you. You’re poison. Stay away.” He put up his hand to stop her.

“I’m going to help you.” She stepped
closer and reached for his arm, but he clamped his fingers around her arm like
an iron vise. When she squealed in pain and tried to pull away, he let go
immediately. She rubbed her arm. Quinn took it and kissed the place where his
fingers had left an imprint.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’d
never hurt you, but I can’t do this. Trust is gone. I’m done. Bed.” He
staggered down the hall, bouncing off one wall and crashing into another.

“Please, Quinn, forgive me.” She
followed along about three feet behind him.

“I can’t trust you anymore.” He
staggered into the bedroom, flopped down on the bed, and passed out.

* * * *

Susanna stood in the bedroom
doorway, shifting her weight from foot to foot, uncertain as to what to do.
When she was sure he was unconscious, she tiptoed into the room. Removing his
shoes and socks was easy. Undressing him down to his boxers was difficult. He
was a dead weight, testing her strength. She retrieved a light blanket from her
bedroom and draped it over him.

A sharp, stabbing pain pierced her
heart. Throbbing at her temples and a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach
weakened her. She sank to the floor to rest. Leaving seemed the only way to
deal with this situation.
He’ll never
forgive me. Hell, I wouldn’t if I were him. Broken trust means it’s over.

Packing her belongings went quickly
as she only took what she came with. Leaving behind the beautiful clothes,
pencils, and sketchbooks he gave her was sad but seemed fitting.
At least he can’t say I took anything from
him.
She closed the small suitcase then spied her tiny sketchbook on the
nightstand.
If I take that, he’ll think
I’m selling those pictures to the media. Better leave it.

She flipped through the book one
more time, stopping at her favorite picture, the one of him half-naked,
sleeping. After running her hand over the drawing, she knew she had to have it.
I’m entitled to carry away at least one
memory from this fairytale.
She carefully ripped the page out of the book,
hoping he wouldn’t notice it was gone. The page came out easily until the last
part where a small tear left a few ragged edges peeking out. Shrugging her
shoulders, she tucked the drawing into her suitcase and replaced the sketchbook
on the night table before donning a big T-shirt.

Not wanting to surprise her sister,
she sent a text.