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“Ironic? Sad? Uncomfortable?” Nica takes my hand and pulls me to the side aisle. “Come on, we’re going to sneak out the back. I have to get to the reception.”
She hurries up the side aisle, still holding my hand. I follow, just happy to be with her. We duck into the little room at the front where the officiant is pulling the rainbow robe over his head. He emerges from the folds of fabric as we reach the door. He gives a little one-finger salute and winks. “Beating the crowd?”
Nica smiles. “Sorry to barge through, but yeah. I’m the emcee for the reception, so I gotta hustle.”
“You have plenty of time.” The minister carefully folds his robe. “They’ve got a whole thing planned for the exit, with birdseed and butterflies and a flash mob.”
“A flash mob?” We’re out the door and headed around the side of the building before I finish the question.
“Where did you park?” Nica pauses at the corner, looking back at the golf course. “It might be faster to walk.”
“I’m at the back of the lot.” I pull the key fob out of my pocket. “If you’d warned me, I could have parked across the street.”
“Sorry. They had Guy Parker lined up to do it, but he came up with an excuse to cancel.”
“Guy Parker? The game show voice?” I stare at her. “Mister ‘let’s win some money’?”
She smirks. “Remember whose wedding this is. It’s all a big show. Gotta have the best. But when your big money announcer falls through, you gotta grab the next best thing. In this case, a D-list actress who happens to be your daughter.” She points at herself.
“You’re not a D-lister—did he say that?” I gape at her.
“Of course not. He wouldn’t be so crass. It was carefully implied.” She peers around the corner. The cheerful strains of a viral pop song blast out. “We’d better go.” She gestures toward the parking lot with her free hand, still gripping mine in her other.
I squeeze her fingers, pulling her around, and stare into her eyes. “You’re an A-lister to me. Always have been.” Her eyes flicker, and I realize how stupid that sounds. I don’t get to define who’s on which Hollywood list. Clearly her standing matters to her—and her father. “I—”
“Thanks. That’s really sweet.” She leans in, her high heels giving her extra inches, and kisses me on the cheek. The feather-light touch of her soft lips against my skin sends my heart into overdrive.
Nica Holmes kissed me. Twice. I remind myself she’s an actress. She gets paid to make men like me fall in love with her. She’s putting on a show for anyone who might be watching. Making the fans feel appreciated is undoubtedly second nature to her.
But she’s very good at her job. Even knowing it’s all an act, I’m caught. Hook, line, and sinker.
Chapter Eight
NICA
Matt is driving a massive Cadillac with high seats and narrow running boards. He opens the front door with a chivalrous bow. I look at my tight skirt and the high step. This is going to take some effort. And potentially an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction. I dart a panicked look at the chapel. “They’re almost done! Hurry!” I give him a little push.
As he disappears around the front bumper, I turn my back to the car. Bending my arms up and back, I put both hands on the smooth leather seat, flex my knees, and jump. At the same time, I straighten my arms and shove myself into the car. I land half-way across the chair, my head bouncing off the armrest. With a quick twist, and a prayer of gratitude for my Pilates instructor who insists on a rigorous triceps routine, I get myself upright and into the seat before Matt can open his door.
He parks the Cadillac near the front of the hotel parking lot. We evaded the paparazzi at the chapel, and no one is stationed here yet. As I wait in the passenger seat for him to come around and open the door, I take a second to check my makeup and take a selfie. The overhead light and dark background lend drama to the shot.
The door opens, and I reach out to pull him closer. “Let’s get another picture.”
He laughs and leans in, his cheek close to mine. “I’m sure we can find a better backdrop than this.” He points at the image on the phone—a streetlamp hovers over our heads, giving us a weird full moon vibe.
“Good point.” I slide the phone into my tiny beaded purse and sling the long strap over my shoulder. Twisting sideways, I swing my legs out of the car and hold out a hand. Matt’s warm fingers close over mine, steadying me as I slide past the running board to the ground.
He swings the door shut behind me and beeps the locks as we stride into the beautiful lobby. A uniformed employee stands near the entrance, with a tablet in hand. “Name?”
Matt gives the young woman an incredulous look that makes me smile. “Nica Holmes. Plus one.” He jabs a thumb at his chest.
The woman bites her lip. “I have Ms. Holmes down as solo.”
A flicker of discomfort passes across Matt’s face before it goes blank. “I don’t have to stay.”
I put a hand on his arm. “Don’t be ridiculous. They must have you listed separately.” I turn back to the woman. “Surely Drew Robinson is on your list?”
Her eyes flick to Matt and back to me. “Ye—es, but that’s not him. That’s Mr. Hertzsprung.”
