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Her head bobbled side to side in an approximation of a headshake while she lifted her shoulders with an apologetic shrug. “I guess you’re mixing things up. Sorry, Ethan.” She blew him a kiss, and before he could pull her back, she continued her awkward walk down the red carpet.
Sam came up beside him, hesitantly looping her arm through his and following his chilly glare down after Kelly.
“What was that all about?” Sam asked, glancing up at him. “Jesus, Ethan. You look crazy right now. What happened?”
Ethan released the fists he’d balled his hands into and looped an arm around Sam’s waist so she wouldn’t see the fine tremor of rage shaking his extremities. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You just switched gears like that.” She snapped her fingers. “I’m not going to pretend nothing happened.”
His fingers tightened on her waist. “We shouldn’t let it ruin the night, okay? Let it go.”
Sam didn’t look like she wanted to simply drop it. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Ethan leveled her with a stare that was probably too intense given how angry he was, and Sam fell silent.
“We’ll talk about it later. I promise.”
Her crestfallen expression lightened somewhat, but her mouth remained in a thin line, showing no sign that she would fake a smile for him or any more photographers.
“If you’re mad about something, don’t take it out on me,” she warned, her voice low and deadly serious.
“You’re right and I’m sorry. I promise it has nothing to do with you.” He pulled her close and wrapped her in a full hug, not caring that they were still being photographed. He was amazed how much it mattered to him that she not be upset with him. In the past he might have told a woman to suck it up and stay out of his business, but he’d never met a woman like Sam. A good part of him wanted to tell her everything, just lay all his shit out and see if she could help him. She was a smart girl, a problem solver. If anyone could work their way around the cesspool he was swimming in, it would be Sam.
But he couldn’t do that.
If he wanted her to still like him, he couldn’t draw her into his drama. She wasn’t his girlfriend. Right now she was only a vacation fling. If he ever hoped to see her after they left Vegas, he couldn’t leave her with the impression that he was nothing but trouble.
No, he needed to sort this crap out on his own.
In the meantime, he needed to watch his temper.
And figure out what the hell he was going to do.
Chapter Thirteen
There was an award for Best Cinematography.
In porn.
In fact, with the exception of costuming, Sam was surprised to see all the major film award categories were represented at the AVAs.
She was wedged between Ethan and an actress who had introduced herself as Paprika. Just Paprika. Sam had introduced herself as just Sam to avoid any comparisons to the other Samantha Hart. She hadn’t been formally introduced to her porn star name-twin, but after seeing how Ethan had reacted to speaking with the other woman, Sam thought it best she not mention the name.
Though it was her name, which was making
introductions a bit tricky.
That was another thing about the awards ceremony she hadn’t expected. Everyone was so damned nice. Once she got past her deer-in-headlights reaction to all the nearly bare breasts and ample cleavage, she found she was meeting some of the sweetest people, which was unexpected from celebrities.
It wasn’t that she figured the girls would be bitches, but she thought she might experience some hostility, considering she was an outsider, and Ethan had brought her among them as his date. Instead she found herself engaging in a very animated discussion with Paprika and the woman sitting next to her—they were co-nominated for Best Girl-on-Girl Scene—about what book recommendations Sam could make to them.
Sam was grateful for their company, since Ethan had been brooding and quiet since they’d taken their seats, only offering her forced smiles and brief grunts of acknowledgment.
The behavior was similar to that he’d displayed the previous afternoon before taking her to see the lions. Sam tried not to read anything into it, since both of those instances had followed intimate moments between them.
Surely he wasn’t being moody about what had happened in the limo. He’d enjoyed himself, she knew that for damned certain. No, he’d been in an amazing mood until his run-in with Samantha Hart, so obviously the other woman had a direct hand in his sudden turn towards the surly.
A relationship gone wrong, perhaps?
Then why would their production company put them up in the same suite? Though perhaps that was why the other Samantha hadn’t shown up. Bad blood between old lovers?
