Starstruck Page 9

  She still knew him too well. Knew what he was really asking. And she nodded anyway.

  They rode the lift up a single floor and Nick followed her down the corridor to her room. She fumbled for her room key, then stopped and turned toward him without knowing what to say.

  He beat her to it. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For taking a chance on me. Honestly, I had pretty much given up on your approval for this role, and I’ve wanted it more than almost anything else in my life.”

  Christine studied his face, determining his sincerity. “Almost anything else?”

  He lifted his hand and brushed the back of his fingertips against her cheek. She stood there, so still she was rocked by her own heartbeat, unable to move away. No, not unable. Unwilling. He lowered his head and brushed her lips gently with his own, then pulled back to look into her eyes, to gauge her reaction. To give her a chance to shut him down, to tell him this wasn’t what she wanted.

  Instead, she moved closer and laid a hand on his chest, the warmth of his body radiating into her palm, the hard beat of his heart telling her that his cool patience was merely a facade. There was really no point in pretending any longer that this wasn’t what she wanted. When their lips met again, she twined her arms around his neck and gave herself to the moment, letting herself be swept away. She expected his kiss to be familiar, but it wasn’t; she expected it to feel like old times, but it didn’t. He slid his hands into her hair, taking control of the kiss in a way that made her head swim and her limbs loosen. She’d loved him before, but he’d never weakened her knees like this. He’d never made her feel this needy.

  He wasn’t the same and neither was she. Maybe in order to let the past go, she had to embrace who they were now.

  “That’s one way to seal the deal,” came a wry, familiar voice behind them. Christine disentangled herself from Nick and looked over his shoulder to where Remy stood with raised eyebrows, watching them.

  Christine pulled away, her face heating furiously. Nick on the other hand, simply shot the publicist a placid smile. “We’re celebrating.”

  “I can see that.” She looked at Christine. “I was just coming down to see if we were still on for dinner, but I can guess that answer for myself…”

  “No, we’re still on. I just need to…” She waved vaguely toward her hotel room, still unopened.

  Remy struggled against a smile. “Yeah, I guess so. Why don’t you get ready for dinner? Nick and I have some things to discuss anyway. Meet you in the lobby?”

  “Sure.” She smiled at Remy in a way she hoped looked innocent, then softened as her gaze shifted to Nick. He kissed her cheek and whispered, “Good night. Have fun.”

  She tapped her card to the door lock and a green light flashed as it disengaged. She slipped into her room and shut the door behind her, then tossed her purse on the dresser.

  She and Nick Cleary.

  Three days ago she would have said that sounded like madness. And maybe it still was.

  But the bubble of happiness inside her made it impossible to care.

  “Are you ready?” David sidled up beside Christine backstage in the Olympia auditorium where they were only minutes away from the cast announcement.

  “Yep, never been better.” She shot him a bright smile and gave the end of her braid a flick. She’d bypassed on the cosplay today, given the event, but she still looked sufficiently on-brand in a pair of washed leather pants, knee-high boots, and a flowered Bohemian blouse. She had the full face of Cressida makeup though. Her disguise only worked when she wore it; appear on camera barefaced and natural and she’d never be able to walk a convention floor unnoticed again.

  “Okay then. We’re on.”

  Music came on then—not their theme, because they didn’t have one yet—but one that sounded epic and sufficiently exciting. David climbed the stairs to the stage and thunderous applause vibrated through the high-ceilinged room. To have someone of his stature appearing on a FanFest stage was a big deal.

  “You’re really ready?” Nick’s soft voice came in her ear, his breath tickling her neck and sending a shiver through her whole body, along with an inconvenient spike of longing.

  She didn’t turn toward him, pitching her voice low. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “Oh, I’ve never been better.” The glance he sent her was far too knowing to be innocent, but she had no time to explore it, because David was introducing her. She straightened her blouse, threw Nick a “here goes nothing” look and stepped out on stage to a very flattering round of applause. She waved, trying not to look as uncomfortable as she felt, and seated herself in the chair nearest David.

  “And now, we are pleased to reveal the cast of Smoke and Glory for the very first time here. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you your Professor Mulroney!”

  One by one, David announced the cast, working his way back from the smaller characters until there was only Jackson and Livia left.

  “Your Livia Barrett, Rebecca Romano.”

  Rebecca stepped out onto the stage, beaming and waving and looking stunning in a black sheath dress that showed off her slender figure. Whispers rippled through the audience at the announcement of an unknown actress, then exploded into applause again. They were determined to embrace their Livia, even if they didn’t have any frame of reference for her. Christine absolutely trusted the casting; not only did Rebecca look like the book character come to life, she had a strong stage background that would serve her well. Christine had seen a clip of her playing Portia in The Merchant of Venice and thought she had both the strength and vulnerability that the character needed.

  “And now, the announcement you’ve all been waiting for… your Jackson Landry, Nick Cleary.”

  Nick walked out on stage, smiling and waving and looking utterly comfortable with the adoration that came his way. And adoration it was, because the response nearly brought the house down. Christine could swear a few teenage girls swooned in the audience. She couldn’t blame them. Right about now, it was proving fairly difficult not to feel the same way, especially when she remembered the way he’d kissed her outside her door last night.

  “Your cast of Smoke and Glory!”

  It took a fair bit of time for the audience to settle down enough to call it silence. David threw her a smile. “We’re going to start with the author of the book series that spawned the show, Cressida Lyons. Tell me, Cressida, what do you think about your cast?”

  She leaned forward slightly toward the microphone set up on the table. “I think it’s amazing, David. I couldn’t ask for a better group of actors to bring this show to life. And that goes for every member of the production crew as well. It really is a dream come true.”

  “And I have to ask…what do you think about our heroic couple down there?”

  Christine grinned and leaned forward to give Nick and Rebecca a little wave. “Hi guys.” They laughed. They really did look good together. If they had half the chemistry she suspected, every viewer would be shipping the characters by the end of the first episode.

  “Really, I’m thrilled. For those of you who don’t know Rebecca, she has an amazing stage background, and I think she will bring the gravitas that Livia really needs. And of course, we all know Nick. He does brooding and sexy well, but he’s also quite funny, which is an essential characteristic for Jackson.”

  David looked like he was going to move on, but Christine continued. “What you might not know is that Nick and I have some history together. We’ve known each other for years, and when I was looking for someone on whom to model Jackson Landry, Nick was the first one to come to mind. So when I say he’s perfect for the role, it’s because it was custom-written for him. I just never dreamed I’d actually see him play the character on screen.”

  “Are you together?” someone yelled from the audience.

  Christine flicked a look at David who shrugged as if to say, “You opened the door to this one.” She answered, “No, we’re not. But w
e’re good friends.” If she were Pinocchio, her nose would be a mile long, but she knew full well what she needed to say. Besides, how was she going to answer that? No, but he gave me the kiss of my lifetime last night and I can’t stop thinking about him? Honesty was not the best policy here, especially surrounded by swoony female fans.

  “Good! He’s available!” another girl called out, and laughter rumbled through the auditorium in response.

  “Let’s hear from your cast and then we’ll open up to questions from the floor.”

  The cast members said the usual things, how they were fans of the books, how they were honored to be working with someone like David, how they knew this was going to be the opportunity of a lifetime and they were privileged to be part of it. They were all professionals, knew how this kind of thing worked. Then the convention staff activated the mike at the front and brought up members of the audience to ask their questions.

  Most of them were directed to Christine, which she should have expected given the fact there was no show yet; she was still their main link to the stories. But mark her words, next year with a season’s worth of episodes behind them, it would be the opposite. The TV show always eclipsed the books as the audience spread beyond the original readership. That was just fine with Christine. She’d rather be home writing than here anyway.

  The panel finally wrapped up, and they all filed off stage. The press panel was going to begin in an hour, but Christine didn’t need to attend that one. Most of the questions would be directed toward the cast and producers.

  “You made the right decision,” David said, clapping a hand on her shoulder. “It’s going to be wonderful.”

  “I know it is.” She automatically sought Nick in the small crowd where he was chatting animatedly with Rebecca, who looked more than a little smitten. Christine really couldn’t blame her. When Nick turned on the charm, he was magnetic. “We’re going to have to give Rebecca some time to get used to him. Livia can’t be making eyes at Jackson when she’s supposed to hate his guts.”

  “I think she’ll be just fine,” David said with a wink. “She’s just giving her leading man an ego boost.”

  Christine chuckled and David moved on, leaving her by herself, a little island in the sea of activity. She didn’t kid herself. She was here because David liked her and her contract required them to hire her as a consultant for the show. But she didn’t really belong here. She was a writer. She performed her magic alone at her desk, in her own head. The actors tolerated her because she wrote the vehicle and signed off on their best chance to become rich and famous.

  “What’s that serious look all about?”

  Christine lifted her head, pulled from her reverie by Nick’s voice. “Oh, sorry. Lost in thought. I think it went well, don’t you?”

  Nick nodded. “I see what you had in mind now. Did an end run around our deep dark secret?”

  “Oh, they’re still going to dig and see what they can find out, but I doubt they’ll be able to get much. We didn’t live together, so it’s not like there are rental agreements or utility bills in our name for them to parade across the web. The best they might do is find a picture of us together at that writer’s conference you attended with me years ago.”

  “I forgot about that,” he said with a smile. “You won an award. And you wore that short little red dress.”

  “And felt self-conscious the entire time.”

  “You were beautiful back then too,” he said quietly. “It just took you a few years to realize it for yourself.”

  Christine’s cheeks heated, and she forced down the embarrassment. “Cressida’s the confident one.”

  “You realize how crazy that sounds, right?”

  She shrugged. “No more so than admitting that I have the voices of imaginary people in my head. What’s one more?”

  Nick grinned and glanced around, realizing now that they were alone in the corridor off the stage. “So, I have this press thing right now. What do you think about dinner?”

  “I generally like it,” she said. “Did you have something more in mind?”

  “Dinner with me? Tonight? I can meet you back at the hotel. No reason for you to stay around here if you don’t want to.”

  She looked up through her false lashes at him. “Nick Cleary, are you asking me out on a date?”

  A flicker of discomfort crossed his face. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  “In that case, yes.”

  “Yes?”

  “Against my better judgment, yes.” She laughed, unable to keep the happiness in her chest from welling up into her voice. “Text me when you’re back at the hotel and I’ll meet you.”

  “Deal.” He took a quick look around and then bent to quickly press a kiss to her lips. “If we weren’t in danger of being outed right now, I could express myself a lot better than that.”

  “Hmm. I might hold you to that.”

  Surprise flickered over his face, and then he grinned. “See you tonight then.”

  “Good luck at the press panel.”

  He gave her a little salute and then disappeared down toward the exit to join his fellow cast in the conference rooms set up not far away. Christine stood there for a bit longer, letting her fingertips drift to her lips as if to remind herself that she had kissed Nick Cleary not once but twice. The guy who had broken her heart. The guy who had been on her mind every day, for better or worse, for the past five years. It felt both unbelievable and perfectly fitting. She would be publishing her last book in the series just as the first season aired. It seemed somehow appropriate that he bookend the era of her life that had been both the most exciting and the most painful.

  She made a slow exit from the exhibition center, stopping every dozen feet to take pictures with fans who had been in the cast announcement session, then made a break for freedom when she glimpsed daylight through the building’s glass doors. With any luck, she could get a bit more done on her first draft. It was as if making peace—okay, it was more than that—with Nick had opened the floodgates of her creativity, especially since this book would finally reconcile Jackson and Livia’s relationship once and for all. Jackson had proved himself worthy of her time and attention by taking the fall for Livia’s own crimes—which she’d repaid by rescuing him from execution at Newgate. The slate was wiped clean, their debts were paid, now they could move forward…and she hoped, find true love.

  Hoped, because no matter how much she might think she was in control of her characters, they always seemed to seize the reins and surprise her.

  And yes, that sounded totally schizophrenic.

  It took a mere six minutes to reach the nearby hotel, where she went to her room and immediately kicked off the high heeled boots. She sighed in relief and dug her throbbing toes into the soft carpet. As soon as she was back in San Diego, she could retire Cressida’s wardrobe until the next con and go back to her blessedly comfortable collection of cut-off shorts and flip flops. Her feet could only take so much abuse.

  In the meantime, she would throw herself into the world of alternate-history Victorian London, where Jackson was currently being taken to Livia’s Mayfair townhouse to be cleaned and bathed and deloused… Newgate Prison being what it was.

  Things were just starting to heat up between the newly reunited enemies/lovers when a text message beeped on her cell. Just got back to the hotel. Need to change and then meet you in the lobby in 15?

  Christine glanced at the clock and found it was already after six. She’d never managed a shower when she got back. Apparently, it would be Cressida going out on the date with Nick, because there wasn’t enough time to remove the makeup and false lashes and reapply something less stagey. Instead, she dug through the clothing on hangers in her closet and swapped out her frilly blouse for a vintage concert tee and the blazer she’d worn yesterday. Less dressy, more casual cool. Knowing Nick, she’d fit right in.

  She quickly touched up her smeared eyeliner, swiped on some lip gloss, and then grabbed her handbag and keycar
d, her heart fluttering in anticipation. A date. With Nick Cleary. The man who had broken her heart.

  She needed to stop thinking of him that way if there was to be any chance of… anything. The years seemed to have matured him, and after his revelation last night on the tube, she couldn’t deny that maybe she’d played as much a role in their breakup as he had. They were no longer struggling young artists; they were successful professionals. Certainly they could put aside their differences and make a new start.

  The lift took its time coming down from the upper floor, so she fussed with her hair, double-checking her reflection in the mirror on the wall. When it finally arrived with a ding, the doors slid open to reveal a man in a dark suit. She stepped inside, keeping her eyes fixed on the lift’s patterned floor.

  “Excuse me, but you’re Cressida Lyons, aren’t you?”

  Christine lifted her gaze. He didn’t look like a FanFest attendee, with his nicely tailored suit and European-accented English, but one never knew. She smiled. “I am.”

  “My daughter is a huge fan of your books. She’s never going to believe we were staying at the same hotel. Would you mind…?” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and held it up almost apologetically.

  “Sure, it’s no problem.” She moved to his side while he extended his arm for the selfie and smiled at the camera. He took several, then replaced the phone in his breast pocket, looking embarrassed.

  “Thanks. I’ve never done a single cool thing in my life according to her, but this might be the thing to turn it around.”

  “I’m happy to help.” Christine smiled, but she didn’t buy the story for a minute. She wasn’t all that recognizable out of costume, even with the makeup. His daughter might be a fan, but she had no doubt he was a reader, too, maybe more. She had a fair number of men who were closet devotees, mostly the guys who were afraid that any hint of romance qualified a book as a chick read.

  When the lift arrived at the ground floor, they exited and went their separate ways, and Christine started scanning the lobby for any sign of Nick. She finally found him speaking with Remy by one of the massive brick posts, partially hidden by potted foliage.