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Jack and Charlotte—Bella’s new half siblings. Good Lord, her family tree had more branches than a national savings and loan—and about as much stability.
The hairstylist held up an industrial-size bottle of hairspray. “Close your eyes, Ms. Hudson.”
Bella squeezed her eyes closed as the mist of organic hair product swirled around her. “Face it, Dana. There’s still plenty of time left to screw it up.”
Dana sneezed. “Thanks. Keep that up and next time I’m going to sneeze on your dress.”
Half a bottle later, the hairstylist put away his spritzer bottle and started packing his supplies. Bella peeked through one eye and stood. Turning her head from side to side in front of the mirror, she checked out the Grecian-inspired updo.
Dana slipped the specially crafted gown from the hanger and held it for Bella. “Okay, sweetie, time’s a-wasting.”
Bella turned from the mirror and stepped into the dress. She pulled the cool fabric up her body, then shimmied out of her camisole, flicking it free.
Dana zipped the dress up the back slowly. “Spin around and let us see.”
The ivory velvet strapless with a beaded top—a Marchesa creation just for her—draped her curves to pool at her feet in a style somewhat reminiscent of her dash with a sheet down a hotel corridor back in France.
Except this time she had a full face of makeup and upswept hair. She wore her grandmother’s diamond necklace in spite of the offers from major jewelers to display their wares. Bella placed her hand over the necklace, her rapid heartbeat thudding under her touch.
Nerves tap-danced in her stomach over how Honor would be received. Over her combustible family gathered in one place. Over seeing Sam when he kept her constantly off-balance. The evening could shatter into a debacle so easily.
Dana clapped her hands. “Well, sweetie, it’s time to go.”
Sam couldn’t take his eyes off Bella.
In fact, hadn’t been able to look away since he first saw her when he’d picked her up and still couldn’t now that the limo was pulling up outside the theater. Her grandmother’s 1940s Bentley, just ahead of them, inched to a stop by the red-carpet walkway.
Not that he’d been able to talk to Bella or, more important, touch her since her brother Max and his fiancée Dana rode with them, relegating everything to small talk. Of course their presence also helped him stay the course in keeping enough distance from her so Bella would come to him on her own.
The limo inched toward the red carpet spread from the edge of the curb all the way into the sprawling steps leading into the historic theater. He kept his arm along the back of the seat only allowing his fingers to lightly brush her neck, about all the temptation his libido could stand. Bella presented a mix of pristine untouchable beauty in that ivory creation, yet the strapless top of the dress tempted him with the creamy curves of her shoulders and generous breasts.
He could envision her wearing that diamond necklace and nothing else.
Patience.
Camera flashes clicked at strobelike speed outside the limo’s tinted windows. Security guards had the street blocked to outside traffic, cordoning off the area for the slow parade of vehicles toward the theater. People dressed to see and be seen strode up the red carpet, posing for photos, stopping for the occasional impromptu interview with entertainment reporters.
Fans packed either side behind the gold ropes lining the path. Bodyguards in tuxedos did more to keep the fans in check than any decorative cord.
Just ahead, the Bentley’s chauffeur opened a door. Family matriarch Lillian Hudson stepped from the limousine, aided by both her sons. Markus and David wore traditional tuxedos and composed faces. No one would guess they were at each other’s throats because David’s long ago affair with Markus’s wife Sabrina had been explosively revealed.
The brothers were putting on a good show at civility for their mother. This was almost certainly her last Hudson Studios movie premiere.
Lillian Hudson walked up the red carpet, her steps even if slow, a son remaining on either side. Sam could see subtle signs they were supporting her. But from what little he’d heard about the woman, he was certain she wouldn’t even consider using a walker or wheelchair at this particular event.
A strong lady, no question. With her auburn hair, Sam could see flashes of Bella in this woman. However, apparently even Lillian’s strength couldn’t beat the breast cancer.
Was the hair a wig due to her treatments? If so, it was a damn good one. She hid her illness well. Somehow, she made the sedate pace seem regal rather than frail in her deep blue gown and sapphires.
A true timeless beauty and star.
Bella’s head was turned toward the window, her eyes sparkling, as were her future sister-in-law’s. Even her brother seated across from them cleared his throat.
Sam squeezed Bella’s shoulder. “Come on. No crying. You beautiful ladies will wreck your makeup.”
Bella pulled a wobbly smile, leaning into his touch. “You’re right. It’s just emotional seeing her tonight.”
She needed him. A surge of protectiveness shot through him.
He started to answer her but the opening door cut him short. “Your fans await.”
She held his gaze for a second, confusion whispering through her eyes. Her hand fell to his thigh. “Thank you.”
Without another word, she turned away, stepped out and waved. His leg damn near on fire from her simple quick caress, Sam followed, palming the small of her back. The flashbulbs clicked as fast as ticker tape, blinding him. As much as he enjoyed touching Bella, he hated dog-and-pony shows, but he would put on a good face for her. She deserved her moment.
Then the reporters’ questions started in a flurry of shouts.
“Miss Hudson, tell us more about this new man with you.”
“How did you meet?”
“What happened to Ridley Sinclair?”
“Did you break Ridley’s heart?”
A host from a major network talk show—someone who could stand on the red carpet side of those golden ropes—rushed forward with her microphone. Bella squeezed Sam’s arm in a signal to stop.
The reporter screeched to a halt, her plastic surgery all too evident up close, with eyebrows millimeters away from her hairline. “Look who we have here, the leading actress of Honor, Bella Hudson. Good evening, Bella. You look marvelous darling. Tell us about your dress and jewelry.”
Bella posed for the camera, showing off a side angle of her gown while a camera swooped an extra spotlight on her. “I’m wearing a Marchesa original.” Her hand swept up to her neck and her ears. “But the diamonds are totally Hudson, gifts from my lovely grandmother who this film honors tonight.”
The reporter leaned closer, winking at her camera lens before turning to Bella. “Our viewers are dying to know if it’s true that you and Ridley Sinclair are no longer an item.”
Bella tucked nearer to his side. “Sam Garrison is an important part of my life.”
“Garrison? Oh! One of American’s most eligible billionaire bachelors.” The reporter’s eyebrows disappeared into her brunette coif. “Who called it quits between you and your leading man in Honor?”
Sam angled toward the mic. “I have to confess to being the bad guy here. My apologies to Mr. Sinclair, but once I saw Bella, I knew I had to have her.”
Bella smiled up at him in gratitude that the reporter must have mistaken for adoration since she sighed and dramatically fanned her face. “Oh, my, the steam factor is hot here tonight, ladies and gentlemen.”
Sam cupped Bella’s shoulder. “We should move on. We wouldn’t want to hold up the show.”
He ushered her through two more interviews, and couldn’t help but admire her ease with the whole chaotic mess. He wanted to get his show on the road and park themselves in the theater.
A group of females screamed to his left. He jolted, ready to body block any threat from out of control fans…. Only to see the female attention was directed firmly behind them.
Ridley—the rat and moron who’d let Bella slip away—stepped out of the limousine with a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model on his arm. A moody lock of hair stayed perfectly styled over one eye.
Bella stiffened, her smile brittle.
Sam brushed his mouth over her ear. “I hear that anorexic airhead’s vanity dog has a boring smile.”
Bella relaxed against him, tipped her head back and laughed. The reporters turned their frenzy back onto her. Cameras clicked away, the flashes firmly on the two of them while Ridley helped his date untangle her heel from the hem of her skimpy Band-Aid dress.
The sound of Bella’s happiness beat the hell out of all the bells he’d ever heard from the French churches. She sang through his veins more and more. Patience was paying off, but he wasn’t done playing his hand. Time to make his big move toward getting the press talking and winning Bella’s favor.
He escorted her past the last of the outdoor media into the crush of servers and early arrivers inside the lobby, decorated evergreen trees towering up into the cathedral ceiling. Twinkling lights and gilded angels graced the fragrant boughs. Red roses and poinsettias filled massive urns. Garland looped the gold rails leading into the historic theater.
And a fresh batch of reporters waited. Sam might hate the profession on principle, but he wasn’t against using them to his advantage for Bella.
