Wicked Heart (24 page)

I grit my teeth as I stretch my fingers out and bend a little farther.
Oh, God. The agony.

“Liss?” I hear footsteps stop behind me, and I lower my head. Of course Liam would walk in while I was in this position. “Is this some new form of workplace yoga? Or are you
dropping the hint that you’d like me to do something very unprofessional with your ass? Because, honestly, the signals you’re sending right now are kind of confusing.”

I can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes me bristle. After awkwardly pulling myself upright, I turn to him. “Can you please stop smirking and pick these up for me?”

“I’d rather not. Watching you attempt it again seems like much more fun.”

I scowl. “I have no idea what I used to see in you. Funny how you go off people.”

He chuckles as he walks over, and in one fell swoop grabs all the papers, shuffles them together, and hands them to me. “Care to tell me why you’re moving like Frankenstein’s
monster? It’s not still your hip.”

“No. I made a stupid mistake yesterday and now I’m paying for it.”

“What was the mistake?”

“Jogging.”

He genuinely looks shocked. “But your aversion to exercise—”

“Is well-founded. Clearly, I’m allergic to it.” I move stiffly to the desk and shove the papers into a folder.

“You didn’t stretch afterward, did you?”

“Josh told me to stretch before, not after. Some best friend he is.”

“You have to do it before
and
after. You could have come to me if you wanted advice. I’m kind of an expert on exercise, you know.”

“Really? I had no idea. You’re such an unfit schlub.” I take in his ridiculous physique. “I don’t know how you cope with that grossness. Thank God I don’t
have all those weird bulges.”

He gives me a long, slow assessment, up and down my body. “No. You don’t need bulges when you have those killer curves.” As soon as he says it, he drops his head. Like he knows
this sort of flirty banter is exactly what we should be avoiding. “I’d offer to train you, but I guess that’s not something we could do, right?”

“Nope. Besides, my jogging style can be defined as ‘a lumbering seizure.’ Don’t really need you laughing your ass off at me.”

He frowns. “Elissa, you’d be in workout gear. Believe me, I wouldn’t be able to laugh if I tried.”

A shiver runs through me, and I curse it. I’m trying to suppress these types of reactions, but it’s tough when he insists on being so damn sexy. I move away from him and open my
laptop. “Uh, anyway, why are you here so early?”

He looks over his shoulder. Angel appears at the far end of the hallway, talking to a good-looking man with dark hair. “Angel and I have an interview this morning. Just for something
different.”

“In the rehearsal room?”

“Yeah. It was kind of last-minute, but Mary said she’d organize it with you.”

In my back pocket, my phone buzzes. When I take it out and look at the screen, I see a text from Mary.

<
Forgot to tell you about an interview this morning in the studio. Journalist plus photographer from
Moda
arriving at 8. Please provide three chairs. I’ll be there soon to
supervise.
>

I smile and hold out the phone. “Well, now she has. Better go get set up, I guess.” I grab my folder and move past him.

As I come out of the office, Angel sees me and waves. “Elissa! Over here. I have someone I want you to meet.”

I try to look normal as I make my way to her, but I can tell how amused Liam is by my stiff-legged walk as he follows behind me.

“Nice work,” he whispers. “Toy soldiers everywhere would be proud.”

I give him the finger behind my back as I reach Angel and the man she’s with. The man looks to be in his mid-thirties, and his handsome face lights with a smile as he turns to me.

“Elissa, this is our agent, Anthony Kent. He’s in town for a few days to make sure we’re behaving ourselves, which of course we are. Anthony, this is one of the most fabulous
women you’ll ever meet. Elissa Holt.”

I hold out my hand to Anthony and he clasps it. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kent. I’m sure keeping these two in line is like herding cats. I know of some excellent treatments for
stomach ulcers, if you need them.”

Angel rolls her eyes as he laughs. “Please call me Anthony. And, yes, as long as those ulcer treatments don’t interfere with my blood pressure medication, I’m in. A pleasure to
meet you, Elissa.” His hand is warm, and he gives my fingers a gentle squeeze before he lets go. “Let me guess. You’re playing Bianca.”

I shake my head. “Thankfully, no.”

Anthony frowns. “Really? Why not? Who’s your agent? And why the hell aren’t they getting you better roles? You’d be perfect for Bianca.”

“Anthony,” Angel says. “Elissa doesn’t have an agent.”

He looks at me, then back at Angel. “Bullshit. She’s working on Broadway without one?” In a flash, he pulls a card from his pocket and hands it to me. “Well then, this is
my lucky day. Sign with me and I’ll have you on movie screens in record time. That beautiful face needs to be shared with the world, and I’m just the man to make it happen.”

Before I can say anything, Liam steps forward, and I don’t miss the tension in his shoulders. “She’s not an actress, Anthony, so you can stop hitting on her. She’s our
stage manager.”

Anthony turns back to me. “Seriously? You’re hiding yourself backstage?” When I nod, he shakes his head in disbelief. “Look, I don’t want to alarm you, but
I’m pretty sure depriving hardworking Americans of your kind of beauty is illegal in forty-eight of the fifty states. You may need to get out of town for a while. It just so happens I have a
house in the Hamptons if you’re looking to hide out in luxury. I’d be happy to harbor you as a fugitive.”

I laugh. This guy’s pretty charming, even if he is joking. It feels good to have someone I’ve just met say such flattering things. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I notice that Angel is beaming at our exchange. I have the strongest feeling she’ll be informing Anthony I’m single as soon as I’m out of ear shot. I’m not sure how I
feel about that. Yes, I want to get over Liam and start dating again, but dating his agent probably wouldn’t be the best idea.

When I glance over at Liam, his hands are shoved into his pockets, and the glare he’s directing at the wall above Anthony’s head could blister paint at thirty paces.

Yep. That’s what I figured.

I put Anthony’s card in my pocket. I’m sure there’ll be other handsome, charming strangers with whom I can contemplate moving on. Ones who don’t have these kinds of
complications.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, everyone, I have to go set up for the interview. Nice to meet you, Mr. Kent. If you need anything while you’re here, please let me know.”

He reaches for my hand, then places a soft kiss on the back of it. I’m surprised when it makes me tingle.

“I certainly will, Miss Holt. And the pleasure was all mine.”

Even though I don’t look at Liam as I walk away, I can feel his disapproval.

The following day, I’m in my office working through lunch as usual, when there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

Liam enters carrying a small bag. He flops down into the chair beside my desk. “Hey.” He pulls something from his pocket and places it on the desk in front of me. “I thought
you might like this.”

I pick up the thumb drive and examine it. “Oh. Wow, Liam. I mean, I know we said we’d keep things professional, but really? You couldn’t come up with a better gift? They were
out of staplers? Or paper clips?”

He crosses his arms. “Actually, smart-ass, this is a gift you requested.”

“It is?”

“It is.” He raises his chin. “You asked me to get it because you didn’t want everyone to know you’d like to . . . now let’s see if I can remember your exact
words . . .
‘climb me like a tree and bang me like a screen door in a hurricane’?
Do I have that right?”

I close my hand around the thumb drive and sigh. “This is the footage from drunken dress shopping?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You didn’t have to watch it, you know.”

“Of course I did. How else was I supposed to memorize all the things you want to do to me? By the way, I’ll be your ‘sex stallion’ any day, sweetheart.” I slap his
arm, and he chuckles. “Jokes aside, you’ll be pleased to know it won’t be appearing in the first episode of our stupid reality show this weekend.”

“Thank God. And thank you for helping me out.”

“No problem. Can’t have you getting fired for your perfectly understandable desire to ‘fuck me ten ways from Sunday.’ ”

I point to the door. “Get out.”

He stands and looks down at me. “Is that any way to speak to ‘the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on’?”

“Liam!”

He laughs and heads to the door. “Fine. This ‘perfect specimen of manhood’ is out of here. And don’t you dare ogle my ass as I go. Professionalism, please.”

I shake my head and try to hide my smile.

Just as he’s about to exit, Denise appears in the doorway carrying the most enormous bouquet of flowers I’ve ever seen. They’re arranged in a huge crystal vase.

Liam stares at the flowers and blinks. “Denise, wow. You shouldn’t have. I have nowhere to put them.”

She gives him a smile. “If I could afford a bouquet like this, do you think I’d still be working for a living?” She puts them down on my desk. “Elissa, a courier just
dropped these off for you. Please tell me it’s not your birthday.”

I glance at the flowers and shake my head. “Believe me, when it’s my birthday, you’ll know. Gift lists will be distributed and shenanigans will be planned. Thanks,
Denise.”

She leaves and closes the door behind her.

As I grab the card, Liam frowns at the flowers. “Secret admirer?”

“If they’re sending me something this big, they really don’t want to remain anonymous.” I pull the card from the envelope.
“To the most beautiful stage manager
I’ve ever met. I look forward to getting to know you better. Warmest regards, Anthony Kent.”

Liam doesn’t comment, but the tension in the room ratchets up to uncomfortable levels in seconds.

“Well,” I say, searching for something to say. “They’re certainly . . . extravagant.”

Liam swears under his breath.

I raise my eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Nothing. I should go.”

He goes to leave, but I grab his hand. “Liam—”

He looks down, and gently removes his fingers from mine. “Liss, I have no right to tell you what to do, and I definitely have no right to tell you who to date. The part of me that’s
desperately trying to be your friend wants you to find someone and be happy.”

“And the other part?”

He stares down at me, and his expression reminds me of a bank of thunderheads right before a storm. “The other part feels like destroying things when I think about you and another man,
which is insane, considering our circumstances.”

“Yes. It is.” I don’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it does, but I can’t deny that Liam’s jealousy regarding my nonexistent love life irritates me.

It must irritate him, too, because he rubs his eyes and lets out a frustrated sigh. “So many times over the years I’ve typed your name into Google, only to chicken out before I hit
‘enter,’ because I knew I couldn’t handle finding out you were engaged or married. And then I’d hate myself, because if I truly cared about you, which I do, I should want
you to find someone who’ll appreciate what an amazing person you are. If I wasn’t such a selfish asshole, I’d wish for men to fall all over themselves to be with you. I’d
want them to flatter you and buy you presents, and dedicate themselves to making you happy. But every time I have those thoughts . . . every single time, the deepest parts of me know
without a
doubt
that the only man on this planet who could ever make you truly, deeply happy . . . is me. Crazy, right?”

I stare at him, and clench my jaw to stop myself from admitting how infuriatingly right he is. “Yeah. Crazy.”

He swallows, and glances at the giant flower arrangement. “So, yeah. I’d like to tell you to stay away from Kent, because I don’t think he’s anywhere near good enough for
you, but who the hell am I to talk? He just spent a thousand dollars on flowers for you, and I bought . . . well, this.” He passes me the small bag he’s been holding since he walked
in.

“What is it?” I ask as I look inside. “A T-shirt?”

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and I swear, I can see color flare on the tops of his ears. “It’s nothing, really. But it reminded me of you, so I had to get
it.”

I pull out the T-shirt and hold it up. It’s bright yellow and reads,
SWEET DREAMS ARE MADE OF CHEESE. WHO AM I TO DISS A BRIE
?

A rush of warmth hits me. “You bought me a T-shirt about . . . cheese?” For some reason, it makes me want to cry.

I sit there for a few seconds, trying to gather myself together, and when I look up, Liam is frowning. “You hate it.”

I hold it to my chest. “Not even a little. It’s the most perfect T-shirt in the history of the world. I love it.” I swallow hard, because damn him for making a ten-dollar joke
shirt seem like the sweetest gift I’ve ever received.

“You’re welcome,” he says, before giving me one of those soft, intimate smiles that I know he doesn’t give to anyone else. “Okay. I’d better get out of your
hair. You should call Anthony. To thank him, or . . . whatever.” It’s clear that contemplating me doing “whatever” with Anthony makes him want to barf.

As he grabs the door handle, I stand. “Liam.” He turns back to me. “For the record, there’s no comparison between you and Anthony, no matter how much money he spends.
Your present is perfect. For me, anyway. The only thing Anthony has over you is that he’s single.”

He nods and looks at his feet. “Yeah. Kind of an important trait in a potential relationship, I guess. So, you’re going to date him?”

“No.”

He studies me for a second. “Why not?”

I shrug and try not to look like the lovesick idiot I am. “He’s not my type.”

He gives me a bittersweet smile that tells me he sees right through me, then opens the door and disappears down the hallway.