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Chapter Thirteen
‘THAT was my agent.’ Mac dumped his mobile next to his plate. ‘The studio is insisting I go to the premiere of Death Game tonight.’
Juno looked up from the delicious lunch of seared tuna she’d been busy pushing around her plate for the last five minutes. She put down her fork and bit back a sigh. She couldn’t really ignore the evidence any longer. Ever since yesterday, after Mac had given her that fleeting glimpse into the horrors of his childhood, he’d been restless and tense—and really rather rude.
They’d begun the script-reading yesterday afternoon and she’d been enjoying it immensely, but when she’d probed about how he created his characters he’d called a halt to it without an explanation. And when they’d made love this morning, he hadn’t held her afterwards as he usually did, but had disappeared into his office until lunch. So far he’d taken two calls while they’d been sitting out on the terrace and had hardly said a word to her.
She missed the easy camaraderie between them—and his surly behaviour wasn’t doing a great deal to get her own cartwheeling emotions under control—but she was trying not to let him get to her, because she had a pretty good idea what the problem was. He regretted what he’d told her. He knew as well as she did that it had deepened things between them and he was probably as confused about it as she was.
If only she knew a little bit more about relationships—and men—this would all be so much easier. But so far the only new thing she’d figured out about Mac was that he was a master of avoidance.
‘Is Death Game your latest movie?’ she asked carefully.
‘Yeah. I’m supposed to be promoting it, but I’ve already rescheduled a couple of interviews and the studio is pissed about it.’ He snapped the words, frustration edging his voice.
She put her fork down carefully. Why was he angry with her? ‘So it sounds like you should go to the premiere.’
‘It makes me look unprofessional if I don’t attend,’ he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘Especially as I’m in LA at the minute.’
That was definitely accusation she could hear. She straightened her spine and held on to her temper. ‘If you need to go to the premiere, you should go to the premiere.’ Did he think she was going to beg him not to? ‘You don’t have to worry, Mac. I’m perfectly capable of amusing myself for an evening.’
‘You don’t get it,’ he said, still staring at her. ‘I have to take a date with me. No one attends a premiere alone. It makes you look like a loser.’
What was that supposed to mean?
Then she knew and she could feel the blood leaching out of her face. He couldn’t take her to a Hollywood premiere. It wouldn’t look right, she didn’t look right. She bit into her lip, forced herself to stay stiff in her chair.
Don’t you dare fall to pieces.
She knew she had no real claim on him, but how could he even consider dating someone else while she was still here? Had she been wrong about him? Was he really as selfish as he claimed?
‘I see,’ she said, pleased at the way her voice hardly wavered. ‘What are you expecting me to do—give you my permission?’
‘I don’t need your permission,’ he said with a callousness she didn’t understand. Why was he being deliberately cruel? ‘But don’t read too much into it. Okay?’
‘Why would I do that?’ she snapped back, temper taking over despite her best efforts.
He wasn’t going to make her feel inadequate because she didn’t fit into his Hollywood lifestyle. She had her own life—she was her own woman—and she wasn’t going to let him make her feel like less of a person because of it. She’d allowed herself to get in much deeper than she should have. But what right did he have to punish her for it?
‘So who is the lucky lady?’ she said, her voice brittle. ‘Another of your two-week conquests?’
‘What lucky lady?’ he demanded, still with that bitter edge to his voice. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘Fine, don’t tell me.’ She stood up, threw her napkin down on the table. He was not going to make her crumble. At least not until she was alone. ‘It really doesn’t matter to me one way or the other.’ She wasn’t going to let it matter.
He stood up too and grabbed hold of her arm. ‘What doesn’t matter to you?’
‘Who you take to your bloody premiere.’ The minute the shout had left her lips, she knew she’d given herself away. Big time.
It did matter. It mattered a lot. And now he knew it did too.
But instead of gloating, or trying to placate her—which would have been far worse—he simply stared. ‘Juno. It’s you who I’m taking with me,’ he said at last. ‘Why would I take someone else?’
‘Me?’ she asked, the huge rush of relief quickly followed by a wave of mortification. What was wrong with her? Why had it meant so much to her? She didn’t even want to go. Really. ‘But I can’t go,’ she said in a small voice. ‘That would be ridiculous.’
He grasped her other arm to stop her turning away. ‘And why can’t you?’ he murmured. ‘What would be ridiculous about it?’
She looked down, the blush burning her scalp. ‘It’s just…’ Why was he making her say it? ‘It wouldn’t look right. I wouldn’t look right. I’m not that sort of woman.’
