Remember When 2 (12 page)

   Not that I should have cared about any of those things. I was grateful enough just to have reconnected with my old friend. It’s not like I could have expected us to go back to being best buddies all over again just because of this one chance meeting. He had a big new Hollywood life to get back to, and I... well, I didn’t. We were on two completely different paths in life, two completely different worlds.

   Trip’s voice broke my train of thought. “Hey, I’ll be done with this crazy day in a little while, and then I need to drop by the set for a couple hours to reshoot a quick scene. Why don’t we go to a late dinner afterward?”

   I was sure that he was only asking me out so we could finalize the interview, but something just didn’t feel right about it. “Trip, I’d love to, but I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

   He waved off my reservations and pressed the issue. “Oh, come on. One of the restaurants downstairs serves the best Kobe beef you’ve ever had in your life. Melts in your mouth.”

   I’d never even had Kobe beef
at all
, much less would I be able to judge whether it was the best. I looked up to tell him as much when I registered the look in his eyes.

   The warning lights started flashing at the invitation I saw there, written all over his face. I guessed that “dinner” wasn’t really what Trip was trying to talk me into.

   Tossing over my fiancé for a night between the sheets with my ex-boyfriend wasn’t even up for consideration, but damn. It
was
tempting to take Trip up on his restaurant invite. I was enjoying the hell out of our reunion and was flattered by all that flirting. I thought that maybe I’d be able to keep things from getting physical while simply taking pleasure from an innocent night out with an old friend.

   I suddenly realized that I’d been staring at the cut of his square jaw, shadowed by the growth of stubble, imagining what that hint of a beard would feel like scratching against my inner thighs.

   Jesus! The sooner I got out of there, the better.

   “Trip, as much as I’d love to continue this... conversation, I think we both know how our significant others might... take things the wrong way. I think it’s best if we just say our goodbyes now.”

   He held my gaze for a long moment, the both of us trying to postpone the process of slipping away from one another, yet again.

   Trip slapped his hands against his knees, hauled himself off the couch and said pleasantly enough, “Welp, I can see I’m not going to change your mind.”

   He stood in the middle of the room and opened his arms for a hug. True to form, I didn’t hesitate to walk right into his outstretched limbs. He wrapped them around my body, and all I could do was hope he couldn’t feel my heart beating against his chest. I tried to fight it, but my lungs involuntarily breathed in, absorbing that beautiful Trip smell deep into my nostrils. The sense memory of his soapy/sugary scent wafted right from my nose and straight into my brain, causing flashbacks to appear as strongly as if I were on LSD.

   He started rubbing my back and brushing his lips along my temple, causing long-forgotten tremors to race along my spine. I found my brain trying to justify a way to say yes to his dinner
invitation, a way to draw out even just a few more moments of our time together. I was dying inside, my thoughts winging off in a million different directions, lost in the long-ago yet familiar sensation of my body melting against Trip’s chest. After all that time, he was still able to turn me into Jell-O just by coming anywhere near me.

   He had to know what he was doing. He wasn’t playing fair.

   I came to my senses and pulled myself out of the embrace. I offered a polite smile and said, “It was really great to see you, Trip.”

   He slid his palms up and down my arms, reluctant to let me end our reunion. He was looking down at me with that serious, half-lidded stare that always managed to liquefy my insides as he raised a hand to my face. His knuckles brushed across my cheek, his thumb swiping a feathery caress across my bottom lip.

   Just. Oozing. Sex.

   Every instinct within me was screaming for me to flee, to run as fast and as far away as my shaking legs would allow, to stop myself from acting on what my throbbing insides were demanding... but I didn’t move. I stood there, held captive by those blue eyes aching into mine... watching as Trip lowered his face and claimed my trembling lips in a soft kiss.

   Oh. Dear. God.

   That same pull was there, that
thing
between us that always brought us dangerously close to spontaneous combustion. I kissed him back, too far gone to think, just giving myself over to my racing heart and my imploding nerve endings. The kiss went on for an eternity, his tongue exploring the contours of my lips, willing them to part, his arms imprisoning my body to his demanding length, the dizzying swirl of emotions playing their way through my brain. My knees were going weak and I clung to him, my hands grasping his broad shoulders, broader than I remembered. Better, I thought.

   The feel of those full lips against mine was even better than my memories. Maybe it was because that was our first
adult
kiss, or maybe it was just that he’d had so much practice in the previous years. It’s not like I really cared to figure it out at that moment.

   At that point, I was consumed with the sweet pressure of his soft lips, his palm sliding around my neck, pulling my face closer to his, our mouths opening for one another. He angled his other hand down my spine and across to my hip, drawing me tighter against his hardening body, holding me fixed to him, his hot breath mingling with mine.

   He pulled back just enough for me to see the stunned look in his eyes, feel the soft whisper against my lips when he said, “
My God
…
I almost forgot
...”

   My mind gave up all rational thought, the battle having been won over by the sound of his aching voice. I slid my hands into his hair, knocking his hat to the floor as I grasped that beautiful golden mane in my fists, pressing my body to his, hearing him moan against my mouth and feeling his insistent hard-on driving into my hip.

   He’d taken the slightest step toward the couch, walking me backwards, and I knew he intended to throw me down on it, tear my clothes away, and take me right then and there... and I was going to let him.

   And that’s when Sandy walked in.

Chapter 12

THE GUILTY

   I finished watching
Sea Breeze
, and turned off the TV in disgust. According to the IMDb, it was Jenna Barnes’ only known movie role to date, and I just couldn’t resist checking it out.

   Unhealthy? Yes. Could I stop myself? No.

   I was consumed with a warped sense of self-satisfaction, having seen Trip’s fiancée’s acting skills for myself. Let’s just say I thought she’d better stick to her day job: Stripping down to her underwear for money. The tramp.

   I knew from my catalogs that she was beautiful, but I didn’t further the opinion that she was extraordinarily talented or anything. But then I figured that maybe her talents were more impressive
off
screen. Seemed Trip was a magnet for such “talent”. I’d seen a few pictures over the years of random starlets he had escorted around Hollywood, so I didn’t realize his latest arm candy was anything serious. After watching her stupid movie, “serious” was the
last
adjective I could use to describe her.

   I’d dropped by the video store on the way back to my apartment. I didn’t need to check out of my suite at the
TRU
until the next morning, and it would have been nice to treat the stay at the luxurious hotel as a mini vacation. But I knew there was no way I’d be able to sleep under the same roof, in the same
building
, knowing Trip was only one floor above me in the penthouse. After our kiss, I thought it would be best if I didn’t invite any further temptation my way.

   I had recovered from my initial mortification at being caught in such a compromising position by Trip’s publicist/assistant. While I was breaking from his arms and smoothing my hair and suit back into place,
he
didn’t seem embarrassed at all, leading me to believe that the scene Sandy walked in on wasn’t so uncommon. For them at least. I knew that she was probably being paid as much for her ability to keep her mouth shut as she was for her skills as an assistant, so I didn’t worry about our little indiscretion going public.

   I was feeling overwhelmingly guilty about my kissing mishap. I didn’t even know what it would have done to Devin. Not that I would have ever told him, but even if he found out, I
hoped
that he’d be able to shrug the entire matter off like it was the non-event that it was. As jealous as he was about some things, he was also egotistical enough that my momentary lapse in judgment
might
have been treated as nothing more than an amusing little misadventure.

   Something about that just pissed me right off, and I found myself getting irrationally angry at an unsuspecting Devin for his unlikely response to the imaginary scenario that played out in my head. Where did he get off?

   When I started thinking about my afternoon debauchery, I found myself getting worked up all over again.

   I had to call Lisa.

   I grabbed my cell phone and punched in the number I knew by heart.

   She answered on the first ring. “I can’t believe you made me wait until nine freakin’ o’clock for your call!”

   I laughed and answered, “Yeah, sorry. I had a lot to process afterward.”

   “Just shut up and tell me what happened. How did he look?”

   “Hot, dammit. Just as hot as he is onscreen. The cameras don’t lie.”

   “Yum.”

   “Yeah, well, if you think he’s hot in his movies, try being in the same
room
with him.”

   “That bad, huh.”

   “Worse.”

   The tone of my voice and my following silence conveyed my confession.

   Lisa took a breath and said, “Oh, no. You didn’t. I thought you knew I was only kidding!”

   “No!” I exclaimed. “I didn’t do
that
,” I emphasized, trying to sound haughty at the fact that at least I hadn’t slept with him. “But... he did kiss me.”

   “Wait. Like, kissed you, or, you know...
kissed
you?”

   “The second one,” I said, even still trying to downplay what had happened between us back in that hotel room.

   “Layla! You have a fiancé!”

   “So does he.”

   “Oh, shit.”

   I wanted to tell her it was no big deal. I wanted to blow off the kiss, which probably meant a whole lot more to me than it did to him anyway. But I also really needed to sort out everything that had happened. I needed to get it out so that I could put it behind me and move on.

   “Lis, please don’t judge me. I’m already beating myself up enough for the both of us. I just really need to talk about this.”

   “Judge you? Oh, hell no. I wasn’t judging you. I want details!”

   I laughed in spite of my remorse and said, “Well, good, because you’re about to get them.”

   I relayed the day’s events, every single moment between my orderly shower that morning and my complete loss of control in Trip’s arms that afternoon. Lisa was a rapt audience, only gasping with shock every now and then or interjecting with an occasional, “Oh my God!”

   As I got to the part when Sandy walked in, she said, “Oh no!”

   “Oh, yes. I almost died, Lis, I swear. There I was, trying to look all innocent—obviously failing miserably—but Sandy barely even flinched.”

   “What did Trip do?”
   “Laughed.”

   “Shut up!”

   “Yeah. It was a bit of a rude awakening.”

   “Like, it wasn’t the first time his assistant caught him mauling some poor, unsuspecting girl.”

   “Exactly. They were both all business after that, Sandy handing me some legalese in a blue folder and Trip shaking my hand all formal, thanking me for the interview.”

   “Seriously?”

   “Well, no. I mean, he was smirking as he did it, busting my chops, and Sandy just shot him a look like she’d be laying into him later, but still.”

   “But still. So, then they just left?”

   I told her yes, and started to get into how I hit the video store on the way home, when I heard the unmistakable beep of a call breaking through the line. “Hey, Lis, hang on a sec. Call waiting.”

   She said, “Sure,” and I clicked over to my other call.

   I’d barely said hello before a woman’s voice launched in. “Layla? It’s Sandy Carron. Trip’s publicist?”

   I had a strange teenage flashback. It’s unsettling when you feel like you just got caught talking behind someone’s back. But I said, “Oh. Hi, Sandy,” wondering what prompted her call.

   Her voice was halting and I could tell she was trying to sound calm. “I’m sorry to bother you at home. But there’s been an accident on the set.”