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After the screening Mac did a series of press interviews with her hand clasped in his. He insisted on introducing her to every reporter. And each time he did, the flicker of panic increased.
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.’
r /> 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?
