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She stared up into Sam’s mesmerizing gray eyes, allowing herself a moment to just sink into their appeal. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For bringing me home, for the shopping trip in Paris, for clotheslining the reporter, for offering to come with me to the premiere, for taking allergy pills.” She stared down, scuffing her red heels along the stone step. “For respecting my stance on no more sex.”
“I respect your opinion, but make no mistake, that doesn’t mean I agree.”
She pressed a hand to his chest, his really hard and hot chest. “Hey, I mean it when I say I’m not going to invite you inside, not even for coffee.”
“I’m a man who stands by his word.” He picked up her hand and linked their fingers. “As much as I detest media attention, maybe if I feed the hungry press hounds for a few days they might get off my back.”
Since she intended to be an actress for as long as the industry would hire her, her life would be full of media frenzy indefinitely. Sam had made his feelings about the press known. Sure she wanted privacy at times, but she also appreciated the hand they played in helping her promote her work.
That put her lifestyle in direct conflict to his. She didn’t have to worry about him pressing for more. His short-term offer must be as genuine as it sounded.
Great news.
Right?
So why did it leave her wanting to squeeze his hand, yank him closer and steal up all the kisses she possibly could?
Her mouth dried and she forced herself not to moisten her lips. “Good luck with your new hotel.”
A hotel nearby in Los Angeles. A hotel that could bring him back again in the future…. She stopped those thoughts short.
“Luck? Hard work makes luck more inevitable.”
“I like that.” She was actually finding she liked him and that was a dangerous thought to have while standing on her front stoop. Too easily this man could entice her to toss aside her intentions to keep him—any man—at arm’s length until her life settled back down again. “I spend a lot of time with diva sorts, male and female, who barely carry their own bottled water, much less a suitcase.”
Damn him for being so muscular and charming and enticing. What would it have been like to meet him before she’d made the mistake of falling for Ridley? Back during a time when she’d believed her parents had the perfect marriage and happily ever after was for real.
She would have invited Sam into her home, into her bed.
He leaned toward her as he’d done on the airplane. She’d wanted him then, wanted him even more now, a need made all the more painful because she knew just how good they could be together. Her body flamed in response, memories of champagne kisses still fresh in her mind. He angled closer—to open her door.
Sam placed her suitcase in the entryway and set Muffin’s carrier alongside.
“Goodnight, Bella.” He backed a step, waving once before turning toward the limousine. “I’ll be in touch.”
Touch. She shivered with want. It was going to be a long night.
Seven
Sam sprawled on the backstage studio sofa watching the television screen in the green room while Bella finished an interview on the Tonight Show. Muffin perched on her lap, wearing a plaid Christmas sweater. The mutt actually quietly behaved for the cameras as Bella encouraged viewers to rescue a pet from the pound for the holidays.
God, she looked hot in a frothy green dress, silver sequins belting it just below her breasts. Her hair flowed over her shoulders in a deliberate disarray that spoke of steamy, out-of-control sex.
He’d seen just that hair style on her—for real.
Sam shifted uncomfortably. He’d kept his distance up to now, restricting contact to phone calls. She didn’t even know he was here at the Christmas Eve taping, but he figured this would be a great time to start rumors flying about the two of them before they showed up together at tomorrow’s premiere.
A network intern refilled the water glass beside him. He nodded his thanks to the young woman, but kept his eyes firmly planted on the television screen.
Bella had spent the past two days doing interviews while he’d attended to business at his hotel. He’d given her space, easy enough to manage with their movie premiere date just around the corner. He’d seen the want in her eyes on her front stoop the night they’d arrived in the States. A couple of days to ponder that and let it grow could be a good thing.
Except that it had backfired by ramping up his desire for her as well.
Sam knocked back half his tonic water and studied the interview in progress. Framed by the TV screen, Bella smiled flirtatiously at the talk-show host, her hand fluttering to rest on his arm.
The talk-show host loosened his tie in a moment that made the audience laugh. Sam wasn’t chuckling. The NFL quarterback sitting on her other side—having finished his interview—hadn’t taken his damn eyes off her plunging neckline since he’d risen to hug her too tightly when she’d walked across the stage.
Sam bit back a curse. He understood the PR game. Bella wasn’t Tiffany. And even if Bella’s inviting smile and batting eyelashes were genuine she’d made it clear Sam had no claim to her.
The host leaned closer across his desk, L.A. skyline superimposed behind them. “What’s the deal with you and your costar Ridley Sinclair? You two were a couple and now I hear there’s another guy in the green room waiting for you.”
Bella stroked her dog with undue attention as if stalling to gather her thoughts. “You’ve been checking out the green room?”
The camera shot shifted to a split screen image of her—and of him. Damn. He’d meant to surprise her, but not this way.
Making it all the more awkward, the camera angle had included a vase full of red roses interspersed with holly sprigs. The flowers were all over the backstage area as part of the holiday decorations, but the audience didn’t know that. It looked as if he’d brought the bouquet for Bella.
Not a bad idea, if he’d thought of it, but he had gift plans of his own for tomorrow. He shot a laid-back smile and wave to the camera, stifling an itch at the media attention.
To her credit, Bella recovered quickly. “Hi, Sam.” She blew him a flirty little kiss. “Thanks for the flowers.”
Muffin raised her head and yipped.
The host grinned and—thank God—the screen returned to the regular image of the stage. “Tell us more about this new man in your life, Sam Garrison. I understand he is the owner of a string of Garrison Grande hotels.”
Bella stroked Muffin in a gesture Sam had come to recognize as self-soothing. “Sam owns the Garrison Grande Marseille near where we filmed parts of the movie and he has a new hotel here in L.A. We’d planned to spring the news at the premiere tomorrow—” her mouth tightened slightly “—but you’ve found us out.”
“What about you and Ridley Sinclair?” the host pressed.
“Ridley and I—” she waved a dismissive hand and laughed lightly “—went out a few times while making the movie, nothing more. I’m afraid the PR people may have gone a little overboard with all those joint publicity shots and, so, that’s how rumors start. What can I say? It played well for the film.”
“Ah, could you have been leading us on all the time with the Ridley rumors in order to hide your other relationship in the works?”
She batted her eyelashes. “Now would I mislead the press like that?”
The audience rumbled with laughter.
Damn, she was good at maneuvering people into believing her time with Ridley was nothing more than a couple of shared hamburgers. Yet, she’d never once lied in any of her answers to the talk-show host.
The interview was wrapping up and soon enough he would see Bella, another brief brush to remind her of the chemistry they shared simply by standing in the same room. She probably had Christmas Eve plans anyway and he wasn’t much for holidays. His mother had ventured out to spend a week with her South Beach relatives, and he had work to clear away if he intended to devote all of tomorrow to Bella’s premiere and post gala.
The green room door opened and Sam rose to his feet, a surge of excitement just over seeing Bella knocking him a little off guard.
Except it wasn’t Bella. Rather, an older man walked in, slickly dressed, wearing an ostentatious ascot. The guy looked vaguely familiar, but Sam couldn’t quite place him.
Medium height, dark hair, probably around fifty, and he had a Hollywood smile. This fella was definitely a part of the industry.
The man made a beeline for the intern with a clipboard. “Hello, lovely lady, I hope you can help me.”
The assistant giggled, sidling closer. “Yes, sir? What can I do for you?”
“I’m here to check up on the star of my film—Bella Hudson.”
“Your film?” Her eyes went star-struck wide.
“I’m the director of Honor.” He thrust out his hand. “I’m David Hudson.”
Anger pumped through Sam at the man who’d betrayed and dishonored his family. A man who’d knocked a spirited woman like Bella off-kilter. Something Sam intended to make sure it didn’t happen again tonight.
Bella secured her hold on Muffin’s short leash and rushed down the busy hall toward the green room. She tucked sideways past a line of pet trainers waiting their turn for an interview. Muffin growled at the snake handler with his mammoth reptile curled in a cage.
