Wrecked (6 page)

“Zach.”

“Zach?”

“I . . .” She bit her lower lip. Because she felt better with something in her hands, she hit the light and grabbed her new journal. “I’ve got this new plan.”

“Abby, you and your damn plans—”

“Would you just listen?” she snapped. “It’s not a
life
plan thing. It’s just to get me . . . rebooted or something. I need to quit freaking out and trying to plan things. I
know
that. So I made a new plan. I’m going to stop worrying so much about the future. That’s the first thing. Second thing is to tell Roger off. I might do that tomorrow . . . or today, actually. Third up is to flip off the photographers next time I’m in LA. I already did the fourth one—get a tattoo.”

“You got a tattoo? What is it? Did Zach do it?”

Abigale rolled her eyes. “Who else would I let do it? And yes. It’s a dragonfly, on my left hip, before you interrupt again.” She cleared her throat. “The last one . . . well. It’s having a torrid affair.”

“A torrid affair.” Marin said it slowly, like she was rolling the words around on her tongue. “Just what do you mean by a
torrid
affair? Have you ever had one?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“Exactly. For you, a torrid affair would be having sex with a guy you’re attracted to . . . not somebody you were dating for months. Just how many lovers have you had, Abby?”

Abby made a face. “I’ve had two. And the first one was pretty damn good, too. It’s not my fault he turned out to be a two-timing, scum-sucking son of a bitch.”

“True. Actually, we might be able to count Jason as a torrid affair . . . he was just one that lasted for six months. Are you looking at a short-term thing or long-term thing?”

“I haven’t planned that out.” Abby started to pace the bedroom, tapping her journal against her thigh and trying to think about how to say this next part. She needed Marin to talk her down. But she needed Marin to understand she hadn’t lost her mind or something. She was just having a minor breakdown. That was all. Understandable. “I just . . . I want somebody who’ll make my heart stop, and then make it race all over again. I want somebody who’ll make me
remember
every damn second we were together, and not just the moment we were in bed. I want something to remember, Marin.”

Her friend laughed softly. “Damn, if you succeed, I’m going to be seriously envious, sweetie.” Then she sighed and said, “So have you thought about
who
you want this to be with? After all, strangers aren’t exactly safe, you know.”

“I know. I . . .”

Her throat closed up.

“Abby?”

“I—”

Marin muttered something and then demanded, “You said you were calling about Zach. Are you thinking about having an affair with
Zach
?
Our
Zach?”

She opened her mouth to say, “No. I want you to talk me out of it. It’s a bad idea.”

But what she heard herself saying was, “Yes.”

Damn it, you moron!
She smacked herself in the forehead and stormed over to her window, shoving open the curtains so she could stare out into the night. The desert and the mountains spread out in front of her, usually a sight that calmed her, but try as she might, she couldn’t get anything to calm her tonight.

“It’s a stupid idea, I know,” she said quietly. “I know that. I just need you to talk me out of it.”

“Why would I do that?” Marin yawned. “Sorry. Long day. Anyway. I think you should go for it. He’s hot. He cares about you. And if you’re attracted to him? Go for it.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it. “You’re not helping,” she whispered quietly. “Damn it, he’s my best friend. Things like this don’t tend to end well and I
can’t
lose him. You know what he means to me. You’re supposed to talk me out of this. That’s why I
called
you . . . so you could make this easier.”

Marin laughed. “Hey, friends aren’t supposed to be about making it
easier
. Besides, you didn’t tell me this was one of those
tell me what I want to hear
discussions. I gotta go . . . love you!”

* * *

Marin stood there, arms crossed over her chest as
she stared at the phone. It was late and she had to be out of the house by seven a.m. for an interview. But oddly, she wasn’t at all tired.

Marin was one of the other kids from the
Kate
+
Nate
show, although
she
had been Kate the cutie’s rival on the show. In real life, they’d liked each other. Quite a bit. Of course, Marin had been jealous as hell of Abigale for a long while, because while Zach had been eyeballing Abigale, Marin had been eyeballing him. She’d gotten over her infatuation. Zach never had, because his thing for Abigale went a hell of a lot deeper. It wasn’t just infatuation, something Marin had figured out a long time ago. He was shitfaced in love with Abigale, but for some reason, he’d never made a move on her.

And if Abigale wasn’t so damned set on planning her entire life down to the nth degree, then she might have figured out one crucial detail. The perfect guy had been waiting for her all along.

“And she thinks I’m going to tell her to back away from having an affair?”

Marin snorted as she turned away.

The only question in mind for
her
was whether or not to warn Zach.

Nah. She figured it would be more fun for both of them this way.

Chapter Five

Abigale looked up as a rather domineering and
arrogant chef appeared in her line of vision. His name was Raul. At least that was the name he’d given her when she’d told him that she was going to help cover for her friend Grace. Grace was supposed to make the desserts at a bat mitzvah and she’d gotten sick—a bad stomach flu was going around and she’d asked Abigale to cover for her. They were friendly and when she could, she liked to help her friends.

Raul was not her friend.

And she’d bet her eyeteeth that Raul’s Italian accent wasn’t authentic. Especially since he kept dropping it when he was pissed off.

Glancing over at the prep for the canapés, she paused long enough to study them, then study the mini-tarts she’d been working on. “Am I being paid to help with the canapés?” she asked mildly.

He gave her a sharp-edged smile. “We believe in helping each other in this business,
bellezza
.”

“Really?” She smiled back. “I’ll keep that in mind when I ask for help opening a door later. You slammed it in my face when I was juggling six bags earlier.” Then she shot a look at what he was working on. If he didn’t get some help, he was going to ruin the food. She didn’t like the asshole, but that wasn’t the fault of the client.

It wasn’t precisely their fault that the guy had an ego the size of California and that he was too stingy to hire out for extra help when he clearly needed it. Wiping her hands on a towel, she headed to the stove and judging by the look of things, she’d made it just in time.

What was he going to do, let it burn?
she wondered.

Possibly. Some people would do that just to prove a point. Throw a tantrum.

“How are you doing these?” she called over her shoulder.

“My
sous
-chef can advise you,” he said, his voice all but
reeking
with imperiousness.

Abigale decided then, in that very moment, that she wanted to smack him. Hard.

Instead, she gripped the skillet’s long metal handle and rotated her wrist, smiling a little as the smell of onion, bacon, and spice filled the air. He might be an ass, but he knew his way around the kitchen.

“He likes to . . . ah . . .”

She glanced over at the boy next to her. Well, young adult male, she supposed, but he was so nervous, so jumpy, it was hard to call him an adult. When she looked at him, he couldn’t meet her eyes, and when she smiled at him, he tucked his chin low and seemed to wilt while a blush stained his cheeks red.

“Just tell me how we’re doing this,” she said, smiling at him. “I can handle it. You just keep doing what needs to be done. Otherwise we get to listen to him bark for the rest of the day.”

Abigale tried to elicit a smile from him.

But all he did was shoot a nervous look over his shoulder at his boss and then back at her, like he just might be sick.

Damn it.

She really wanted this day over with.

Sighing, she focused on the stove. This was why she liked running her own business. If she was putting up with the assholes, at least they were
paying
her. She was getting paid here, but not by the prick with the pots and pans over there.

Abigale smirked a little as she settled down to work.

* * *

“I just wanted to thank—”

The woman stopped in the doorway, staring at Abigale. Her daughter was the young lady of the night and having a very grand time, from the way it sounded, and the look of pleasure on the woman’s face was almost worth the headache of working with
Raul
.

Almost.

“I . . .”

Abigale mentally sighed and reached for a rag to wipe her damp hands off.

“Madam, is everything . . .” Raul paused, pursing his lips as though he was searching for the words.

Abigale was pretty certain the woman’s name was Anna Wendell. They hadn’t had the chance to meet but she remembered that Grace had kept referring to an Anna. And Anna was staring at her with a look that Abigale was pretty familiar with.

“Is it . . .” Anna licked her lips and laughed, the sound more than a little nervous. “Ah, this is going to sound terrible, but . . .”

Raul shot Abigale a dirty look and then stepped forward. “Madam, if she’s caused a problem with the party, I’m terribly sorry. As you know, Grace was ill and we had . . . we had to settle.”

Settle?
Oh, she’d show
him
settling. After she punched him. The pompous windbag.

Anna gave him a horrified look and then shot a look at Abigale again. “Raul, don’t be silly. Everything was wonderful. That’s why I came back here—I was worried there would be problems with Grace getting sick. But . . .” She edged around him, coming closer to Abigale, but her steps were slow, almost hesitant, like she was still trying to decide if she wanted to say anything.

Abigale decided she wanted to get out of there. She couldn’t leave
yet
but since the party was going well and her part was done, she would take a few minutes outside. Setting her shoulders, she put a smile on her face and stepped forward with her hand outstretched. “Hello, Mrs. Wendell. Abigale Applegate.”

Anna’s jaw dropped. “Oh . . . oh, my goodness.” Instead of reaching out to shake her hand, she covered her mouth. “It
is
you!”

“Madam . . .”

Anna started to laugh, waving her hands a little as a smile stretched across her face. “Ms. Applegate . . . wow. Oh, my goodness. Wow. You won’t believe this, I know and I bet you hear it all the time, but I’m one of your biggest fans.
Kate
+
Nate
was one of my most favorite shows ever . . . and when it went off the air, I thought I was just going to die.”

The lady rushed over and as her arms came around her, Abigale hugged her back.

“It’s such an honor to meet you!”

“The pleasure is mine,” Abigale said softly and she meant it. One thing she had enjoyed about that life was meeting the people who’d enjoyed the show. That had been fun, something that made it worth it. Even now.

“Uh . . . who in the hell is Kate?”

Looking up, Abigale smiled and she couldn’t help it as she met
Raul
’s gaze. “I was . . . once. Raul, what happened to your accent?”

* * *

Ten minutes later, she’d signed autographs and then
managed to sneak her way outside. The warm evening air wrapped around her and she sighed as she made her way over to one of the benches that lined the outdoor gardens of the pavilion the Wendell family had rented.

Stretching out her legs, she flexed her calves and wished she could take off her shoes, but then she’d have to put them back on . . .
not
going to happen. Once those puppies came off, they were staying off.

“You’re really a famous actress?”

At the sound of that young voice, she bit back a sigh and then sat up, smiling as she saw Kenzie Wendell standing over at the edge of the garden. “Well, hello.” Peering past her, she glanced toward the corner where she could just barely see the faintest edge of the bright lights that spilled out from the event area in the back. “Shouldn’t you be at the party?”

Kenzie shrugged. “I can always be at parties.” She rolled her eyes a little and with the temerity of the young, she headed over to the bench where Abigale sat and plopped down beside her. “I’m having fun and stuff, and I
love
the presents, but I’ve been to like eight of these parties this year. I’ve never talked to anybody famous before.”

Abigale laughed quietly. “I’m not famous anymore, really.”

“Sure you are.” Kenzie cocked her head and the dim lights glinted off the pretty little jeweled band in her hair. “You were on a TV show for like
forever
. My mom has them all on DVD. I even watched a few.” She paused and then grinned, her nose wrinkling up as she added, “Nate was kind of cute. Were you two really . . . um . . .”

Abigale grinned over at her. “It was a TV show. Nothing you saw on it was real.” Then she frowned. “Well, the guy who played Nate
was
cute.”

“But you two weren’t like boyfriend and girlfriend or anything?”

“We’re friends.” She smiled a little and glanced back at the teenager. “You want to hear the truth? We still are friends . . . we’ve been friends since the show was on. He’s the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Wow. You’ve been friends for like . . . forever.”

Abigale winced. “Well, really, it’s like twentysomething years, but to a thirteen-year-old girl, I guess that seems like forever.”

“Yeah.” Kenzie was quiet for a minute and then she asked, “Is he still cute?”

Abigale’s mouth went dry.
Cute
. Cute might have touched on what Zach had been all those years ago, but now? She thought of the dark, heady blue of his eyes. Thought of the way his hands had felt on her, and all he’d been doing was giving her a damned tattoo. And it had
hurt
, but she’d still loved the way his hands had felt. She was sick. So damned sick.

She thought about the way those tattoos twining around his arms had always gotten to her, and the way she could lean against him and just
know
things were going to be okay if he was there.

Something odd shifted in her heart as she realized that last thing wasn’t anything new. Yeah, her serious interest in his tattoos wasn’t a new thing, either, but Zach was a physical work of art. All long, lean muscles and those colorful tattoos that curved and colored and lined his skin only accentuated the utter perfection of his body.

It went deeper than that, though. So much deeper.

Zach . . . he’d always been there.

“Yeah,” she whispered softly. “He’s still cute.”

“Kenzie!”

Kenzie groaned and shoved upright off the bench. “That’s my aunt. She’s going to insist on more pictures, I know.” Then she grinned back at Abigale. “It was nice meeting you.”

Abigale smiled back, but her mind was still on Zach.

* * *

A good four hours passed before she was done.
Nearly one o’clock in the morning and the city was quiet, the night sky spread out around her like a blanket. The brilliance of the stars was so much more vivid than it’d ever been back in LA.

If she wasn’t so damned tired, she wouldn’t have minded going for a drive through the desert, just her and the night sky. But there was no way. She was tired, her body was sore, and her clothes smelled like she’d been cooking all day.

Which was true.

So instead, she drove home and brooded over the tasks on the list that she hadn’t done.

Call Roger
.

That was the most pressing thing, although she couldn’t exactly explain why.

Unless it had something to do with the way his words kept haunting her.
You’re not being true to yourself
.

Not being true to herself.

She
didn’t
want Hollywood back.

Yeah, there were odd, random thoughts that would drift through her mind every now and then. But it was more like a pang of nostalgia for the few good times she remembered about that life. Not anything that she wanted to have again. Sort of like high school. Plenty of people thought fondly of those days, she knew, but most of them wouldn’t go back if you
paid
them.

But something about what he’d said was really just getting to her and she couldn’t figure out what it was.
You’re not being true to yourself . . .

Not being true to herself. Was she hiding from something she really wanted? It sure as hell wasn’t that life. But if it wasn’t the life, then what was it?

Yet again, Zach’s face flashed through her mind and she found herself thinking back to her conversation with Kenzie Wendell. And the way her thoughts had shifted and taken their own path.

Zach had always been there.

She hadn’t ever been one of the girls who’d had a mad crush on him.

He was just Zach to her, and always had been. Why was that suddenly changing?

And just what in
hell
was she going to do about it?

* * *

The last thing she should have been doing before
she drifted to sleep was thinking about Zach.

Because the first thing she did once she slid into the dark, warm embrace of dreams was think about
him
 . . . and there he was.

Steel Ink wasn’t precisely the place she would have expected to find herself, but as she lay back in the chair, she decided she wouldn’t complain. And she already knew she was dreaming. It was the only way to explain why she was in the chair wearing nothing but panties and a tank top, and why he was bent over her, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. He wasn’t doing anything sexual. At least it shouldn’t
feel
that way, but as he transferred a design onto her skin, Abigale had to bite back the urge to moan.

Long, agile fingers stroked down her hip and although she didn’t know why, when he peeled the paper away, he leaned in and pressed his lips to her hip bone. Her breath caught in her chest as she felt the glide of his hair across her skin. “Is . . . ah . . . is that part of the service?”

“No.” He kissed a little higher, nudged her shirt out of the way. “This is a special service. Just for you.”