The Walk of Fame (16 page)

By the time they arrived at the after-show party in a Michelin-starred restaurant in Beverly Hills, it occurred to her he’d hardly let go of her all evening. Even during the screening, he’d threaded his fingers through hers and held on.

‘So what did you think?’ he asked as he whisked a glass of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter and handed it to her.

The question sounded casual, but his eyes fixed on her face and she knew it wasn’t.

She remembered how he’d shifted and fidgeted in his seat through most of the movie. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said seeing himself on screen made him nervous. The thought was strangely endearing.

She took a fortifying sip of the champagne, not sure she could put her feelings about his performance into words. ‘I don’t know anything about movies or movie acting. But you seemed so real, like a real person. I totally believed you were capable of killing that man. You looked like you. But I forgot it was you. It was incredible.’

She coloured as the tension left his face and he grinned. Had she made a complete idiot of herself? ‘Sorry. Was that as stupid as it sounded?’

‘Not at all,’ he said, his grin getting even bigger. ‘You’ve just given me the best compliment an actor can ever have.’

‘I did?’

‘That you believed in the character.’

The pride and sense of achievement in his voice was so genuine, it touched her deeply. ‘Your work means so much to you, doesn’t it?’

‘I’ve never found a better way to pay the bills, that’s for sure,’ Mac said flippantly. She was looking at him again in that way she had that made him feel transparent. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

‘No, I mean, it’s not the celebrity or the money that matters to you. It’s all about the acting. It’s who you are.’

How did she know this stuff? Her intuition was uncanny. And unsettling. ‘Yeah, I guess you’re right. Acting saved me.’

‘How?’

He shrugged. He could tell her this. It wasn’t that big a deal—he’d talked about it before in interviews as it was good publicity fodder. ‘I made a lot of bad choices as a teenager, ended up in a juvenile detention centre when I was fifteen.’

He took a sip of champagne, and wished it were a beer. How had he got into this again? Baring his soul for no good reason.

‘They had a social worker there, suggested I try out for a theatre workshop they were doing. I did and that was it. It was like a drug. I didn’t have to be me any more. I could be anyone I wanted to be. And I loved it.’

A small frown formed on her forehead. ‘Why didn’t you want to be you?’

Now he really needed that beer. No one had ever been perceptive enough to ask him that before. ‘Because I was a little bastard. Not being me was a good thing. Believe me.’

Her frown deepened.

‘You’re such a brilliant actor, Mac,’ she said, the sincerity in her voice making his heart ricochet against his ribs.

Why did this suddenly feel like a very big deal?

‘And it’s wonderful you found something you’re so good
at. But you shouldn’t confuse being in a bad place with being a bad person. It’s not the same thing.’

‘Who told you that?’

She smiled, the complete faith in the gesture doing funny things to his insides.

‘You did.’ She stretched onto tiptoes and kissed his cheek, her eyes warm with approval. ‘Acting didn’t save you, Mac. Don’t you realise, you saved yourself?’

Mac toyed with his second glass of champagne and kept his eyes peeled for Juno’s return from the powder room. Tonight had been a much bigger success than he could have hoped. He hated these affairs, but having Juno with him had made the time fly by.

And okay, he didn’t know why he’d got so worked up about what she thought of his performance. Plus he wasn’t the sentimental type. But he’d got a real kick out of what she’d said about the film and, well, everything.

She was good for him. He liked having her around. Why keep on denying it?

He gulped down a swallow of the sparkling wine, felt the bubbles tickle.

I don’t want her to leave. Not yet.

The minute he’d admitted it, the parched feeling in his throat began to ease.

Was that what had made him feel so uneasy in the last couple of days? Could it be as simple as that? That he just wasn’t ready to let her go?

But now he thought about it, it made perfect sense. And the solution was even simpler. Why did they need to put an artificial time limit on their affair?

If they took a couple of months, gave themselves enough time to tire of each other naturally and burn off all this sexual energy—the pressure would be off and the affair could run its natural course.

He finished off his glass of champagne as he studied the door to the powder room across the dining area, the relief intoxicating. He didn’t have to worry about how much he wanted her any more. About how much he was enjoying her company.

As soon as she got back he was getting them the hell out of here. They could take the copter back to Laguna and then he intended to indulge the little fantasy he’d been nursing ever since he’d first seen her in that dress.

Tomorrow morning, he’d tell her he wanted her to stick around a while longer. Given the way she responded to him, he didn’t expect it to be a hard sell.

‘Hello, Mac, darling.’

He tensed, the sultry Southern drawl souring his mood a little.

He turned. ‘Hello, Gina. You’re looking …’ Immaculate, was his first thought as his gaze drifted over the pristine make-up and the blue silk, expertly hung on her tall, angular and emaciated frame. ‘Nice,’ he finished.

Funny how Juno’s small, petite frame and artless style stirred his blood in a way Gina and his other girlfriends never had.

‘Nice?’ she said, arching one perfectly plucked eyebrow. ‘Now there’s a word to make a woman’s heart flutter.’

He could see the hurt in her eyes and even three years on felt the pulse of guilt.

‘I’m not great with words,’ he said, annoyed with himself. The woman had all but scalped him in the press. What did he have to feel guilty about? ‘Not unless they’re scripted for me.’ If she fancied an argument she’d have to look elsewhere.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said wistfully. ‘You were always very good with words as I recall. But then I always made the mistake of misinterpreting them, didn’t I?’

The pulse of guilt increased and impatience flared. ‘If there’s a reason we’re having this conversation, maybe you should get to the point?’

‘Actually there is a reason.’ She looked down at the champagne stem clutched in her hand. ‘I never apologised to you. For the problems I caused. And I’m sorry. More sorry than I can say.’

Her apology sounded sincere and left him momentarily lost for words.

‘It’s forgotten, Gina. I stopped holding it against you years ago.’

Her head came up. ‘You have no idea how ironic that is.’

‘Yeah? Why?’

‘You were the wronged party and you didn’t hold a grudge. And yet I held one against you for years.’

‘Why did you?’ he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him. He never had understood why she’d found it so hard to move on.

‘It’s fairly simple, Mac. And I believe I did tell you at the time. I was desperately in love with you. And I was angry that you refused to even try to love me back.’

He shoved a hand in his pocket, her wistful tone threatening to ruin his mood. He wasn’t taking the blame for this. Not any more.

Juno spotted the stunningly beautiful woman with Mac through the terrace doors as soon as she came out of the restroom. Gina St Clair. The supermodel Juanita had mentioned. One of his many conquests.

Who cares if she’s gorgeous? It’s you he’s with tonight.

She repeated the mantra in her head as she made her way through the restaurant’s private dining room, trying not to notice how breathtaking the pair of them looked together. Mac debonair and imposing in the dark tailored tuxedo next to Gina, a vision of style and elegance in sky-blue silk. How tall was the woman anyway? At least six feet in her heels if she could look Mac in the eye. And those boobs, what kind of hooker underwear did she have on to make them look so full and perky? It wasn’t fair.

She was so busy obsessing over Gina’s many assets she didn’t take any notice of their body language until she’d stepped out onto the terrace. She stopped dead as Mac thrust a hand into his trouser pocket and angled his body towards Gina, the animated stance suggesting an intimate conversation.

She hadn’t planned to eavesdrop. But she couldn’t deny the whisper of jealousy.

Was there still something between them?

As Mac’s voice carried to her over the tinkle of glasses and conversation she stepped behind a large oleander that sheltered her from view, and listened to every word.

‘You weren’t in love with me, Gina. You just liked the idea. We looked good together and the sex was pretty good too. But that’s all it was.’ He sounded irritated and bored.

‘I did love you. And you ended up breaking my heart.’ The supermodel’s voice quivered as if she was fighting off tears, but Mac didn’t seem to care.

‘Don’t be stupid, Gina, there’s no such thing as love,’ he replied, the flat tone reminding Juno of when he’d spoken to Connor and Daisy at the wedding—of when he’d warned her not to get involved with him. ‘Haven’t you figured that out yet? And even if there were, it’s not something I’m interested in giving—or receiving. And I believe I told
you
that at the time. So if your heart got broken, it was your own fault.’

He said the words without inflection, the complete lack of emotion stunning Juno.

She didn’t have to be jealous of Gina; he had no feelings for her. But had he ever had feelings for anyone?

Where was the man who had comforted her so tenderly? Who had confided in her? Who had talked with such candour about his work? And made love to her with such passion? Where was the man who she thought had needed her?

Had that man been real? Or was he just another of the roles Mac was so good at playing?

Juno didn’t hear Gina’s goodbye, the woman’s voice
drowned out by the thudding in her ears of her own pulse. Panic closed around her throat as she realised two devastating truths in the space of one single heartbeat.

She’d made the same stupid mistake as Gina. She’d fallen hopelessly in love with Mac Brody.

And it would be her own stupid fault if he broke her heart too. Because she still had no idea who he really was. Or whether he was even capable of loving her back.

‘W
HY
don’t you tell me what’s going on?’ Mac shouted into the en suite bathroom. ‘Because I’m getting tired of the silent treatment.’

He flung his tuxedo jacket onto the bed, flipped out his cufflinks and waited for a reply. His optimism of less than an hour ago well and truly squashed flat.

Women!

First off, there had been Gina, waylaying him at the party, making him talk about stuff he had no desire talking about and tarnishing the happy glow from his earlier conversation with Juno.

Then Juno herself had got back from the restroom looking pale as a ghost and refusing to meet his eyes—and his mood had hit the skids completely.

He’d done his best to ignore the problem during the limo ride to the Beverly Hills heliport. Hoping that if he said nothing she’d snap out of it. He’d had enough ‘deep and meaningful’ conversations to last him a lifetime today and he wasn’t raring to have another.

But she hadn’t snapped out of it.

So he’d clamped down on his apprehension and tried twice to bring it up on the helicopter ride home. Only to have her give him the brush-off—and then shoot off to hide in the bathroom as soon as they got through the front door.

He dragged the shirt over his head, balled it up and chucked it at the laundry basket, ignoring the tightness in his chest. The white rattan pitched precariously.

‘You might as well tell me because I’m not staying out here all night.’

More silence greeted him. Had she gone deaf or something?

Damn it, he’d had plans for this evening. And they hadn’t involved showering alone.

Still no reply. He kicked off his loafers. He was fast leaving concerned and perplexed behind and working his way up to annoyed.

Dropping his trousers and dumping them in the basket, he walked into the bathroom in his boxers. And caught her frozen by the shower cubicle, naked, her eyes wide and her clothes neatly stacked on the vanity unit.

The tightness began to ease as he devoured her slim, compact frame, the curve of her bottom and the small but perfect breasts with the large rosy nipples. The blood drained from his head and pumped straight into his groin.

‘Do you mind?’ She whipped a towel off the rail like a schoolgirl, and covered up all the delicious pink flesh. ‘I’m having a shower.’

Right, that was just plain wrong.

‘Well, now, it looks like you’ve got company,’ he said, forcing a lazy grin as he padded across the tiles. Whatever had got into her, they could deal with it later.

He’d seen the way her nipples had drawn into hard points as soon as she’d spotted him.

It was way past time they got back to basics.

Juno tensed, the melting sensation making her knees shake as she stared at the sculpted planes of Mac’s naked chest. Then her gaze hit the impressive bulge in his boxer shorts and the melting sensation went molten.

How could he still have this all-consuming effect on her?

All he had to do was look at her, with that knowledge, that purpose in his eyes and she got moist?

She couldn’t make love to him now, not when her emotions were all over the place. It would be suicidal.

All the way home, she’d tried to focus on what to do, how to deal with the terrifying discovery that she’d fallen in love with him. How to simplify things again and get her practical step-by-step plan back on track. But the subtle scent of his aftershave, the feel of his thigh pressed against hers in the helicopter, had drained her of all her common sense. And she was beginning to see that that had always been the case. Every single one of the decisions she’d made had been influenced by his overpowering effect on her.