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“How did you get in earlier?” I reach out but can’t figure out how to help her without getting intimate.
She grabs my wrists and puts one hand on either hip. The cool fabric of her dress slides under my calloused fingers. I press my palms against her perfectly shaped hips, and my heart seems to stop. She sucks in an audible breath, then says, “Lift on three.” Her voice is husky, and she stares up into my eyes.
I can’t form a coherent thought. I’m here, in the moonlight with Nica, holding her. I swallow hard, and my breath catches in my throat. Her perfect lips part, and she leans in a little closer. My heart starts again, pounding in my chest like an avalanche.
A car honks, breaking the spell. She laughs shakily and looks away. “One, two, three!”
I lift her hips as she presses up with her arms. The force of our combined efforts almost throws her back into the car. Her legs fly up, and I leap back to avoid taking a stiletto to the throat. She lands across the seat and starts giggling. The tension leaves my body in nervous laughter. I wait for her to pull her legs into the car, then close the door and hurry around to the driver’s side, still snickering.
“We rode in this car before. How did you get in back at the chapel?” I pull onto the road.
She wrinkles her nose in an adorable smirk. “Pretty much the same as we just did.” She flexes her arm. “That was before I had three glasses of champagne and enough roast beef to feed a family of four.”
“I can’t believe I missed it.” I flush. “I mean, I thought I was watching you—” I break off. “Wow, I sound stalkerish. Sorry.”
She laughs. “That was when the fireworks went off. You were distracted.”
The flash mob in front of the chapel had included a pyrotechnic show as well as an “impromptu” live performance by upcoming pop star and YouTuber Dizy Dee. Avoiding her live song had prompted much of my haste. I don’t understand why she’s famous.
And yes, I realize I sound old. Get off my lawn.
We wind along the dark roads, turning into the Meads’ driveway. Their house is located behind others on the street, offering them some privacy as well as the stunning fairway views. We crest the little hill, and their house comes into view below. Lights glow in the entrance, illuminating the arched doorway. Well-placed spots shine on the witches-hat top and the perfectly manicured front yard.
“It’s like a castle! Stop the car!” Nica scrambles for the door handle.
I stomp on the brakes and put the vehicle in park. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t pass up a vid op like this.” She pushes the door open and twists around until she’s standing halfway out of the car, leaning against the door. “Cut the headlights, will you?”
From here, I can only see her legs—which isn’t a hardship, especially with one peeking through that slit. At her request, I peer at the dashboard and finally locate the headlight button. Then I lean across the seat to see what she’s doing. She points her cell phone at herself, with the house in the background. “Isn’t this amazing? My new friends have the coolest house!” She freezes for a second, then taps the screen. Still perched on the edge of the car, she twists around to film the house. Then she drops back into her seat and shuts the door.
I sit there, staring at her. “What was that all about?”
I can’t really make out her face in the faint lights of the dash, but her voice sounds a little defensive. “Sorry. Self-promotion is a fact of life in my industry. If I see something I think my fans will like, it’s second nature to take a video.”
I look down at the house. It is pretty spectacular. “They won’t be able to see where it is, will they? I don’t want Gloria hounded by your fans.”
“Oh, no, my location data is turned off. I don’t want anyone finding me. And I’ll wait until I get to Seattle to post this one.”
I ease the car down the hill and past Subie Doo. The garage opens as we approach—whether it’s some automatic magic Rob has created or someone has hit the button, I don’t know. I pull into the garage and cut the engine, trying to stay casual. “You’re going to Seattle?”
She opens her door and glances over her shoulder at me. “On the way to LA, of course. There wasn’t a direct flight on Sunday.”
I get out of the car, taking a second to get my face—and my emotions—under control. Cold loneliness trickles into my heart, which is stupid—I just met this woman, and I knew she’d be going home. With a deep breath, I close my door and meet her at the front of the car. “You’re heading back tomorrow?”
She nods. “I’ve got a movie to make, remember?”
Chapter Ten
NICA
Rob Mead refills his mother’s wine glass, then leans across the coffee table to top mine off. I put a hand over the glass before he gets there. “No more. I have to fly tomorrow, and I don’t want a hangover.”
The big man looks at his smart watch. “You mean you have a flight today. What time?”
I pull out my phone. It’s almost one. “Yikes! I had no idea it was so late. My flight is in the afternoon, thank goodness. Three-ten takeoff. Which means I have to leave about noon.”
The others laugh.
