Chapter Seven
“I have a confession. A real one.” Paige turned her head and glanced at Andrew. He’d decided to stay after their earlier conversation. They didn’t do anything in particular, just spent time catching up. Now they were seated in front of a fire pit, roasting marshmallows, drinking wine, and staring at the water.
Andrew rotated the stick holding two marshmallows slowly. “What is it?”
“I think Julius married me to help his image.” It was the first time she’d said it out loud to anyone. She’d thought it for a while, but it hurt too much to verbalize it.
Meeting her gaze, he asked, “Why do you say that?”
Leaning her head back against her chair, she said, “I just can’t reconcile his behavior with the man that pursued me, followed me around, purchased extravagant gifts for me.” She shrugged. “What other reason could it be? I mean, he obviously has feelings for Catherine. They have a child together.”
He took his stick from the fire and handed it to her. “That doesn’t mean he has feelings for her.” He added two more marshmallows to another stick and started the roasting process again.
“Marrying me doesn’t mean he loved me.”
In hindsight, she could clearly see she’d married a narcissist. Julius was entitled. He didn’t have any boundaries. There were times when he seemed to genuinely care about people, but he lacked true empathy. On the other hand, he could charm the pants off a person. Which was why he’d been able to have the career he had.
“He was so manipulative,” she said into the night air. “And he could be so cruel.”
Andrew turned cold, hard eyes on her. “Did he hurt you?” he growled.
“No.” She shuddered as Julius’s harsh words replayed in her head. “He never touched me physically. But the way he acted during the divorce process . . . The things he said . . . Why did I marry him?”
His gaze softened, but she couldn’t figure out if she read hurt for her in them, or hurt for himself. Maybe it was both? Is it wrong to hope it’s both? “You loved him.” He averted his gaze. “You wanted your marriage to work.”
“That’s part of it,” she agreed. “But the signs were there all along. The insults buried in praise, the way he’d always turn things around to make it my fault, the constant criticism. Those were things he always did. So why was I with him?”
Andrew took a drink from his wineglass. Convincing him to try the merlot was quite the feat. He was a beer guy, through and through. “You can’t get caught up in the whys,” he said, rotating the stick. “You have to focus on what you’re doing now to fix it.”
She sipped from her glass, admiring his patient technique. He was as careful and methodical at roasting marshmallows as he was with everything in his life. “You’re pretty intense with marshmallows,” she pointed out.
A small smirk played over his lips. “Marshmallows are nothing to play about, Paige.” He nodded toward her stick. “Better eat those before they get too cold.”
Paige eyed him for a moment before stuffing one whole marshmallow in her mouth.
Andrew laughed, and it sounded like a song—a sonnet. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you stuff anything in your mouth.”
Giggling, she pulled the other one off the stick and ate it in one bite. “It’s so good, though.” She licked remnants of the treat off her finger. “See, you’re a bad influence on me. Got me out here being greedy.”
He gazed at her mouth, his eyes soft.
Paige swallowed. “What? Do I have something on my mouth?” She wiped her lips with the back of her blanket. “Tell me. Don’t have me out here looking crazy.”
“Actually, you look good in marshmallow lipstick.”
Paige grinned. “And your marshmallow is on fire.”
“Shit.” Andrew lifted his stick and blew on the marshmallow. “Oh wait, this is salvageable.” Eyeing him skeptically, she watched as he gently peeled off the skin. Once he was finished, he held it up. “See. I can re-roast this one.” He turned his attention back to the fire and she turned her attention back to him.
When he was done, he took his marshmallows and squished them between the chocolate and graham crackers he’d prepared earlier. He took a big bite.
Nodding, he pointed at his s’more. “This is the bomb.”
Paige didn’t think she could stop smiling if she tried. She didn’t want to, because he looked so damn hot doing simple things, like eating s’mores. “Now I’m jealous,” she told him. “I want one.”
“Want a bite?” He held the rest of his treat out to her.
“Nope, I’m doing good. Only marshmallows. No graham crackers. And definitely no chocolate.”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “You’re missing out.”
Paige’s glance flitted between his eyes, the teasing smile on his lips, and the gooey s’more in his hand. Grumbling a curse, she snatched it from him and bit into it. “Oh my God,” she said around a mouthful of deliciousness. “I think you missed your calling.”
Chuckling, he said, “Nah, I just happen to have a mother who liked to camp with us when we were kids.”
She wiped her lips. “And here I thought you were a scout or something.”
Andrew snickered. “Hell no. One month in Troop 838 was enough for me to know that wasn’t my thing.”
He leaned over, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip and stealing her breath in the process. Stunned silent, Paige traced the same spot with her fingers, as he went on about the business of marshmallow roasting. Basically, he’d seared her with one simple touch, igniting a fire in her as hot as the fire in front of them.
“Want another s’more?” he asked, pulling her from her thoughts. “Or just plain.”
“Plain,” she croaked, licking her bottom lip. “Extra golden.”
He smiled. “You got it.”
Leaning back against her chair, she stared at the water. “You’re always like this,” she said, on a sigh.
He chuckled. “Like what?”
“Calm, steady, logical. You never really lose your temper or even raise your voice.”
“I did yesterday.”
Paige smiled. “It was a tense situation.”
“That’s a way to look at it.” He sucked in a deep breath, and handed her the stick.
Pulling a piece of her marshmallow from the stick, she said, “How do you look at it?”
Andrew closed the bag of marshmallows and relaxed into his chair. “Tense, but preventable.”
Paige raised a brow. “If you’d not acted the way you did?”
“Mostly that.”
She ate her marshmallow and picked up her glass of wine. Tucking her feet under her butt, she shot him a sidelong glance, only to find him watching her. “What?”
“Nothing.”
They locked gazes again. “Your turn,” she said.
Frowning, he asked, “My turn to what?”
“I made a confession, now it’s your turn.”
With a sigh, he peered up at the clear sky. “Hm . . . Remember when you wore that floor-length pink gown to the Image Awards?”
“Yes.” Paige had been nominated for Best Actress in a Motion Picture that year. And she’d agreed to support an up-and-coming designer by wearing one of her creations on the red carpet. Of course, she hated the dress when she’d seen it. But Andrew had convinced her she looked beautiful. “I definitely remember that dress. Why?”
“That dress was horrible,” he admitted.
Paige gaped at him. “What?” She swatted him. “You told me it was beautiful.”
“You were beautiful,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “But that dress . . . awful.”
“I knew it!” She laughed. “You are so wrong for not telling me the truth.”
“Hey, you needed to get out of the car.”
Narrowing her eyes, she said, “You know I’m never going to believe you when you tell me I look good, right?”
“That was the one and only time I’ve lied about how you look.”
“Yeah.” She sent him a mock glare. “I don’t believe you.”
He barked out a laugh, lifting up his hands. “I swear.”
“Tell me anything.”
“Okay. You look way better in sweats and that marshmallow lipstick you’re wearing than you did in that dress.”
Sitting up straight, she wiped her mouth. “Oh my God. You suck for letting me sit here with food on my mouth.” She tossed her lap blanket at him. “Ugh.”
“You love throwing blankets at me, huh?”
Paige tried to pull it back to her. They played tug-of-war for a moment before he finally let it go. She huffed, wiping her lips again just to be sure.
“It’s all gone now,” he said.
“Really?”
“Really,” he repeated. “Look at me.”
Paige finally glanced over at him. Raising a brow, she asked, “Yes?”
He held out his hand. “I’ll never lie to you again.”
It was a simple promise, yet it seemed so loaded. It made her want to ask him more questions just to see if he’d tell her the truth. She wanted to know why he looked at her like she was the answer to his prayers. Why do I love it when he does that?
“I’ll hold you to it.” She slipped her palm into his, entwining their fingers. “No lies.”
The lingering stare that followed made Paige comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. Because she still had so many concerns, so many reservations. Because she sensed that something had changed between them tonight. Hell, things had been changing since he’d arrived on her porch yesterday. And, God help me, she was both scared and excited to see where the changes could lead.
* * *
Andrew had spent a lot of money and time on education. Valedictorian, dean’s list, magna cum laude were only a sampling of the honors he’d received in his pursuit of success. He’d prided himself on maintaining his composure in any and every circumstance. There wasn’t much that rendered him incapable of making good decisions. But now? Today he only knew two things: Paige had a smile that took his breath away and Paige in sexy black lace panties might kill him.
He stood at the base of the steps, transfixed by the sight in front of him. The music blasted through surround sound speakers as his client—because, yes, she was still his client—danced in the kitchen. As The Notorious B.I.G. rapped about dreams and Word Up! magazine, Andrew wondered if he would dream about the woman reciting the famous lyrics tonight—and every night.
Andrew wanted to stop her, to get her attention so she knew he was back from his store run, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak up. Because she looked so good. Instead of the messy bun she’d been rocking since he’d been there, her hair was wet and falling down her back like ebony waterfalls. Aside from the black panties, she wore a black tank and pink fuzzy socks. Oblivious to his presence, Paige did a cute little dip and a hip roll as she stirred her coffee.
Fuck. Me.
Blinking, he shook himself out of his naughty musings. He wasn’t a voyeur . . . normally. And he definitely wasn’t a Peeping Tom or a creep. One thing he was, though? Hard as hell. Shit.
Andrew covered his erection with his hat and opened his mouth to speak. “Paige?”
Of course, she didn’t hear him. Instead, she launched into the chorus of the song. Loudly. And a lot off-key.
“Paige?” he called again.
“You know—” She turned and yelped, stumbling back into the sink. “Ouch.” Paige jumped forward, rubbing her back. “Oh my God! When did you get here?”
Andrew looked at the stove, the corny painting of a sailboat, and the white trim on the walls . . . Anything but her and her ass and those damn panties. “Um, I just got here.”
She held her hand over her chest and blew out a deep breath. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Turning his back on her, he said, “Sorry.” One. Two. Three. Four.
“Drew?” He heard her approach him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he lied. After he’d told her he’d never lie to her again. Good fuckin’ job, Drew.
She walked in front of him and peered up at him, a frown on her face. And he held on to his hat for dear life. “You said you’d never lie to me again.”
Shit. “Paige, it’s not a lie.” Except, it was and he’d just done it again. “I’m good.” That part is true. He was good. Good and hard. “You just shocked me.”
“Why?” she asked incredulously. “What did I do?”
“Your rap skills.” He nodded. “I didn’t know you knew all the words to the song.” Okay, that’s true, too. Paige was more of a neo-soul, R&B woman. Hip-hop wasn’t usually on her playlist. “And I didn’t expect you to be rapping that song in your underwear.”
He glanced down at her then, just in time to see her drop her head and then peer up at him again. “Oh, this. You’ve seen me in my underwear before.”
Of course he had. She was an actress. He’d seen all of her movies and most of her television work. He’d even seen the Broadway play she’d starred in a few years ago. He’d also seen her without her underwear. Not that she did a lot of nude scenes, because she didn’t. But she’d had to disrobe for a sex scene once. Even then he’d always tried to focus on anything else.
“I have,” he agreed, giving her a tight smile. “I just didn’t expect to today.”
“Oh well. I’ll get dressed.” She patted him on his shoulder and sauntered over to the stairs, giving him a full view of her beautiful butt. That ass, though . . . “Oh.” She froze, turning to him. “I thought it would be fun to watch a movie tonight.”
“Okay,” he grunted. “We can do that later.”
“I’ll make popcorn.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Without butter.”
He drew in a deep breath. “Good.”
She tapped her chin. “Horror or rom-com?”
“Horror.”
Paige rolled her eyes. “Fine. But you know I’m a screamer.”
Shit. As if he needed another vision in his head—him on top of her, him inside her—while she was screaming his name.
She stared at him, a coy smile on her lips. Almost like she knew what he was thinking. “Okay, I’m done. I’m going to get dressed.”
“Please do,” he murmured. Paige cracked up. And he wanted to cry. I’m dying. “The milk you wanted is on the counter,” he told her. “I have a few calls to make.”
“Fine, I’m going.”
Paige walked up the stairs, humming another hip-hop tune, and he slumped against the wall. Suddenly, watching a movie with her in the dark felt like a trap, one that he wouldn’t mind walking into.
Later, they sat at the table in the sunroom, a board of Scrabble between them. After she’d walked downstairs with her hair still hanging loose, a ripped T-shirt and a pair of sweats—looking every bit as sexy as she did in panties and a tank—he suggested the game. No sitting next to each other on a comfortable couch, no sharing popcorn, no burrowing into him during the scary parts of the movie. And best of all, they were in a well-lit room. No sense in tempting fate right now.
Andrew made a show of looking at his watch. “Um, you can make your move any day.” It had been at least a minute since he’d played his last word and she still hadn’t formed a word.
“Shut up,” she grumbled, moving her tiles around. “Don’t rush me.”
“You can always pass,” he teased. “I won’t think any less of you.”
Muttering a curse, she passed. “Don’t think I’m giving up.”
Grinning, Andrew swiveled the board around and placed two tiles on the board. “I would never think that.”
Frowning, Paige peered at the board. “Wait a minute!” She smacked her palms down on the table. “That is not a word. You’re cheating.”
“How am I cheating?”
“AA is not a word!” She pouted.
Andrew barked out a laugh. “It is.”
Paige pointed at him. “Stop lying.”
He picked up his phone and googled the word. Then he showed it to her. “See?”
Leaning forward, she read the screen. When she was done, she pushed his hand away. “Get on my nerves,” she grumbled.
Andrew’s phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, noticed it was Skye, and turned it off.
“You’re not going to get that?” she asked, her eyes still on the board.
“No, they can wait.”
She lifted her eyes, held his gaze. “What if it’s important?”
“It’s not,” he insisted. Skye had been calling him all day, and he’d yet to answer the phone because he wasn’t ready to bring work into the little peace they’d found there. Andrew knew the publicist would want to talk about Paige, and he felt it was best to table any discussions about Paige’s career for the moment.
Arching a brow, she said, “Really? I’ve heard your phone ring multiple times just in the last hour.”
Sighing heavily, he shrugged. “Like I said, they can wait.”
“It’s about me, isn’t it?”
Andrew didn’t want to give her another vague answer, so he just answered the question. “Yes, it was Skye.”
“Skye? What does she want?”
He took a sip of his beer. “She’s concerned about you.”
Paige perched her chin on her hands. “Why?”
“Because you disappeared. She’s your publicist—and your friend. She wants to know if I found you, and if you’re okay.”
Tilting her head, she observed him for a moment. Finally, she sat back and rested her hands on the table. “You can tell her I’m okay.”
Andrew nodded. “Okay.”
“So, I’m putting two and two together.”
Oh boy. He knew exactly what she was thinking, so he said, “Skye came to me and told me you left.”
Paige finished her glass of wine and poured another. “Exactly what I thought.”
“Let’s not do this.”
“Do what?” she snapped. “Talk about how you wouldn’t have known I was gone unless Skye told you?”
Andrew opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. She was right. He would have known eventually, but it could have been a while. Especially since he’d started letting Vonda handle the day-to-day.
“I guess I shouldn’t be hurt, but I am,” she admitted. “You came here because she told you to. Not because you missed me or you cared about why I left.”
He placed his hand atop hers and squeezed. “Paige, that’s not true. I care.”
“Just when I start to feel comfortable, just when I start to believe that I’m more to you than a client, something like this happens.”
Andrew blew out a harsh breath. “I get why you would feel that way, but that’s not why I’m here. If it was just about the job, I could have told Skye where you were. I didn’t have to come here myself.” Her shoulders fell, and he rushed on. “Yes, Skye lit a fire under my ass. Yes, I was wrong as hell for how I treated you. But no, you’re not just my client. I thought we already established that.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “If we’re going to be honest, I’ll admit that I’ve been wondering when you would bring up work.”
“I didn’t bring up work. You asked.”
“True. But you’re my agent. My work affects your bottom line. It benefits you for me to do my job.”
“Don’t do that.” Andrew wanted to move forward, but if she really felt that way, he didn’t see how they’d be able to.
“I’m sorry.” She tugged at her ear. “That was under the belt.”
“Thank you.” They sat in silence for a long moment. “Listen, I’m here because I care about you. I’m here because I want to be here—with you.”
“I want to believe you, but—”
“Then believe me.”
Paige hugged herself. “It’s just that . . . I’ve been so wrong about a lot of people.”
“One person,” he argued.
“A lot of people,” she corrected. “I want to move past it, especially with you. Because I’m glad you’re here. I’m happy we talked. I don’t want to burst this bubble we’ve created here.”
“You didn’t.”
“If it seems like I’m a bit suspicious, I hope you understand why.”
Andrew knew exactly why she’d reacted the way she did. He didn’t fault her for it. He just wanted to assure her that he was there for her—not for work. “I do,” he said.
“Good,” she said. “And . . . I’ll think about contacting Skye myself.”
“That’s your decision. Call her when you’re ready.” He leaned forward and brushed his fingers over her furrowed brows. “And stop frowning. You always tell me worry lines are forever.”
A smile spread across her full lips. “I can’t with you.”
“You know what I think?”
“What?” she asked, confusion etched on her face.
“I think you are so upset that I’m kicking your butt at this game that you had to distract me with an argument so that we could stop playing,” he joked.
Paige’s mouth fell open. Then she laughed. And it was like music to his ears, because they’d weathered another tense moment together.
“Drew, really?” She shook her head. “I should throw this ‘L’ at you.” She held up a letter.
“What is it with you and throwing shit at me?”
She slammed the tile on the table. “You deserve it.”
“Maybe, but it’s your turn. Go ahead and play that ‘L’ so I can win the game.” He raised a challenging brow. “Unless you’re scared. You can always resign.”
Paige scrunched her nose, staring at her tiles in concentration. As he watched her deliberate over her next move, he realized that it didn’t matter if they were in the dark, in the light, walking down the street, or even in different houses. The woman in front of him was breathtaking, beautiful in every situation. Even when she was angry at him. And he wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist letting her know just how much she affected him.