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Mandy sat on one side, with her big canvas tote bag at her feet, diligently flagging signature lines. “These are almost ready to go.”
“Awesome,” Stacy replied, and scooted over to give Kylie room to get in. The driver managed to peel his eyes off Kylie’s spandex-covered backside long enough to nod and shut the door. Determined to change the subject, Stacy put her wings down on the seat beside her, leaned back, and smiled at her sister. “Did you see the way the driver looked at us? I think he actually drooled.”
“He drooled at you. He also totally checked out your butt when you got in the car.”
“You both look really pretty,” Mandy said.
“Thank you,” Kylie shot Mandy a smile and then returned her attention to Stacy. “Don’t bend over too far in that outfit, or you’re liable to moon the entire party.”
She grinned and smoothed a hand over her costume. The flimsy thing looked like a strong breeze would blow it right off. “Compared to some of the getups you’ll see tonight, I’m positively dowdy.”
“Oh, please. You’ve never been dowdy a day in your life. Not even when you were stuck in a big old plaster cast from toes to knee.”
Thinking back to that period, almost a year ago now, made her remember the first time she’d met Ian. He’d shown up at the dumpy apartment she’d shared with Kylie, and she’d experienced an immediate flare of attraction as she’d stared into the deepest, greenest, most deceptively easygoing eyes she’d seen in her life. She hadn’t made him as a cop until he’d flashed his badge and hustled her down to the police station to answer questions about two murdered Deuces clients. That he’d fooled her was odd because she’d had enough experience with Two Trout’s finest during her formative years she could usually spot a cop as easily as she could spot a Hollywood boob job. But despite her instincts, all she’d seen was thick, sun-streaked hair, a determined, slightly raspy jaw, and an array of lean, hard muscles that gave her an instant urge to climb him like a rock wall, regardless of her broken leg.
Answering their questions had taken forever and left her a sweaty, shaking mess, but miraculously, they’d believed her when she’d insisted she didn’t know anything about the murders. Ian had driven her home. Something about his self-assured smile and unshakable calm made her want to fuck with him…or just fuck him, but instead he’d done both to her. Before she’d known quite what hit her, she’d been flat on her back, with her broken leg draped over his shoulder, screaming like a porn star as he’d driven her right out of her freaking mind with nothing but his mouth.
She’d tried to even the score as soon as she could see straight again, but he’d brushed her off and told her “some other time.” Offended and, truth be told, a little humiliated at how completely she’d lost control of herself in his arms, she’d given him her best Queen B look, told him there would be no “other time,” and kicked him out. The cocky bastard had stood in her doorway, smiling his stone-sexy smile, and assured her with complete and utter confidence there would be plenty mo
re times, starting as soon as she acknowledged they were going to share more than just body fluids. Then he’d walked out, without a backward glance.
Naturally, he’d been right. He’d infected her mind like a virus, until he was all she could think about. She’d lain in her bed night after night, all needy and aching, remembering the way he’d tongue-whipped her into a frenzy. How careful he’d been with her broken leg. How thrillingly rough and insatiable he’d been with the rest of her. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she’d broken her own ironclad rule and called him, and they’d dated for almost a year. The best year of your life, a small, unhappy voice at the back of her mind insisted.
“Thank God I’m out of it now,” she whispered, thinking Kylie would assume she meant the cast.
“You should call him,” her sister said, not fooled in the least. “You’re miserable—don’t deny it, I know you too well. He’s miserable too, in case you wondered. I know you got spooked when he asked you to move in, but there’s a lot of safe ground between living together and breaking up. I think you should talk, now that you’ve both had some time to calm down and consider things.”
Safe ground? What a joke. Because of her, and choices she’d made before she ever met Ian, there was no safe ground for them. So for once in her life she’d done the noble thing. The selfless thing. The most painful thing imaginable. She’d set him free before she ruined his life by dragging him and the family he loved through a humiliating public airing of her not-so-upstanding past. Miserable or not, he must have realized he’d dodged a bullet when she’d broken things off, because he’d done nothing to try to change her mind, and Ian could be relentless when he wanted something.
“I adore you, Ky. I really do, but you’ve developed one tiny, annoying habit since entering the disgustingly sweet state of bliss reserved for brides-to-be.”
Kylie poked her in the leg with the plastic pitchfork she carried. “You don’t say?”
“Ow.” She shoved the fork away. “I do. You’re happy, and, naturally, you want everyone around you to experience the same happiness. What you have to understand is that right now I’m not at a place in my life where a long-term commitment works for me. My career is finally taking off. I need to stay focused if I want to keep the momentum going. I can’t afford the distraction of a relationship.”
“That makes no sense. You two have been joined at the hip since you landed the series, and your career has never been more on-track. Why do you suddenly think the relationship presents some dangerous distraction?”
“Because…” Dang it, she’d thought the whole “can’t afford any distractions” excuse sounded mature and logical. She huffed out a breath and scrambled for a better explanation. Something besides, Because he deserves better than an ex-juvenile delinquent,and an ex-stripper with a bad reputation. Because even if he thinks he can handle the fallout when all my shit goes public, how will he feel when his mom can’t go to the market or church without people whispering about how her son’s involved with the crazy actress whose disreputable past has been splashed all over the tabloids?
Growing up as the bad seed of Two Trout, she knew what it felt like to be the object of whispers and malicious looks. Her takeaway from the whole god-awful place had been a tough skin and a general disregard for what other people thought of her, but she wouldn’t wish the experience on anyone. She sure as hell wouldn’t wish to inflict that kind of treatment on people who had been nothing but nice to her.
“Because?” Kylie prompted, and jabbed Stacy again with the plastic pitchfork.
“Ouch. Cut that out or you’re not going to like where the fork goes next. Look, we’ve been over this, Ky. I don’t have time to invest in a relationship. I’m on the set, or doing publicity, or auditioning for movie roles for when the series goes on hiatus.”
“Ian understands the demands on your time. He’s got a pretty demanding job too, you know.”
“Exactly.” Stacy latched onto the argument like a lifeline. “We’d never see each other, and we’d grow apart. It’s doomed.”
“Or…you’d move in together, like Ian suggested, and appreciate the little, everyday moments all the more because you don’t take them for granted. Why don’t you just admit you got cold feet?”
Yeah, that’s what everyone thought, including Ian. Or maybe he’d seen right through her act, but not called her on it because he realized she’d done him a favor. Life with her was no picnic. She’d managed to run her daddy off from in the womb, and most of the other people in her life, except Kylie, disengaged as soon as they got whatever they were after.
Ian wasn’t after anything except the right woman to spend his life with. Call her crazy, but she’d never seen the point of auditioning for a role she didn’t have a prayer of winning. She stared out the tinted window at the parade of lights, cars, and costumed revelers along West Hollywood’s famed Sunset Strip. “I did not get cold feet,” she said softly.
“You so did. A classic case. He asked you to move in with him and you bolted like a bunny rabbit. If I look up ‘cold feet’ in the dictionary, I don’t see your picture, because you’ve already run for the hills.”
Mandy snorted and tried to hide it by clearing her throat.
