The Chatsfield Short Romances 6-10. Carol Marinelli
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little question about his co-star made Liam frown and usually he wouldn’t even bother responding to one of that nature. Romances between actors sold magazines. He knew it and so did the actresses he worked with but it didn’t mean they had to add fodder to it.
For some reason Chloe’s question bothered him and he realised with a flash of insight that it was because he didn’t want her to think poorly of him. He didn’t want her thinking he was just a pretty face who couldn’t act his way out of a paper bag, as his father did. He also didn’t want her thinking that he was some sort of player who couldn’t keep it in his pants.
Since starting in this business he’d had more offers from women than stars in the sky and he could count on one hand – okay, maybe two– the number of times he’d given into those. The fact was his career meant more to him than a quick bout of sexual release with women who would spread their legs for most any movie star they came across. ‘That’s like asking me if I really put my sword through the antagonist’s heart,’ he countered.
But Chloe was no longer the mouse she had been in high school. ‘Hardly.’ She stared him down and he wondered if she still wore those cute round glasses she used to. ‘Stabbing is illegal. Kissing isn’t.’
‘No, it’s not,’ he murmured. He found his eyes drawn to her throat as she swallowed. Hell, his eyes were drawn to every part of her and he really needed to get some control over his libido. He didn’t really want Chloe Tyler in that way, did he?
‘Bethany Lord and I were acting,’ he assured her. ‘If you thought the chemistry between us looked real then we did our jobs well.’ Which was the truth. Bethany had been great to work with but there had been nothing even slightly romantic between them.
Intrigued about what Chloe might say next Liam was disappointed when his PA interrupted again.
‘Time’s up, Ms Lane.’
***
And thank heavens for that. Now she could get the hell out of there and maybe go and order a gin and tonic from the main bar off the hotel foyer. Maybe she’d order three. And maybe she’d ask the bartender to hold the tonic on the first two.
‘Thank you, Mr Hunter.’ She stuck her hand out automatically and then wished she hadn’t because Liam took it and the warmth of his strong grip engulfed her.
Once again her heartbeat sped up and she couldn’t tear her eyes from their joined hands, his palm warm and slightly rough against her own. A tingling sensation shot along her nerve endings and caused a shiver to snake down her spine. Unfortunately he saw it. And his slow grin said that he took it for what it was. Pure sexual awareness.
When she tried to surreptitiously pull her hand free Liam gripped it tighter. ‘I’m having a party in my room later on tonight. Come.’
He ran the pad of his thumb across the back of her hand and the meaning behind his touch couldn’t have been clearer. To say that it shocked her would be a gross understatement.
Was it possible that Liam Hunter was attracted to her?
No. Not her per se – but possibly to this new version of her. He was interested in the well-groomed woman with the red lipstick and, okay, the short flirty skirt. He didn’t want the dorky country girl she suddenly realised that she still was deep down inside. The girl who preferred hot chocolate to coffee and still wore fluffy animal slippers in the privacy of her own home. The girl who still struggled with her hair on a daily basis and who wasn’t quite as over the boy she had fallen in love with as she would like to think she was.
The boy who was now a man and who was asking her to come to his room to have sex with him, if she was not mistaken, as if he was ordering a burger at a drive thru. And no doubt she would mean just as much to him afterwards.
Chloe wasn’t sure what disgusted her the most. The fact that he didn’t recognise her, the fact that he was gazing at her with the confidence of a natural born lothario, or the fact that she was so tempted to say yes she could feel the word burning on the tip of her tongue.
And maybe she should, she thought with a spurt of defiance; her earlier fantasy to show him what he had missed out on returning in a rush. Maybe she should go to his stupid party and completely embarrass him when she announced who she really was. That would wipe that lazy, confident expression from his privileged and way too handsome face. He’d probably be appalled that he’d come onto Chloe Tyler – Queen of the Dorks – and it would serve him right.
‘Come on… Candy? It will be the perfect opportunity for us to talk.’
Talk? With that hot, melting look in his eyes and the way he said the name Candy – as if he was already thinking about treating her like a sweet. Oh, yes, he wanted to do a lot more than talk, and for the life of her Chloe couldn’t control the rush of pleasure that throbbed deep inside her body. Couldn’t control the unbidden desire to have him kiss her all over.
This was the look she had always wanted to see in his eyes, had imagined that she had seen on prom night, and even though she told herself he was a rat who played women any way that he wanted to, her ego loved the attention. Loved that he found the new her attractive.
‘Put Ms Lane’s name on the guest list, Noelle.’ His gaze didn’t waver from hers as he issued his instructions to Miss LA, and Chloe nearly gasped at his arrogance.
Then without thinking too much she let her middle finger graze the inside of his wrist, enjoying the heady sensation of power that came over her when his pupils expanded and his nostrils flared. Oh yes, she could already imagine the sense of revenge she would feel when she brought Mr I’m-too-sexy-for-my-own-skin Hunter down a peg or two.
She forced a simpering smile to her lips. ‘What’s your room number?’
The overhead halogen lighting made his green eyes glow like precious jewels. ‘Four two six. Nine pm. Don’t be late.’
Don’t be late.
Arrogant jock. She had a good mind not to turn up and she fumed as she stalked back towards the hotel entrance, only slowing her pace as she noticed people starting to glance at her sideways. It wasn’t as if the hounds of hell were really after her. Just her own oversized insecurities and a deep desire for validation.
But how was she really going to pull this off? For a start she had nothing to wear that could be considered remotely alluring. She pictured the contents of her mostly work-related wardrobe. This skirt was the shortest and cutest thing she owned. The rest was made up mostly of tailored suits or jeans. Would jeans be enough to hold his interest?
Only if they’re so tight they leave nothing to the imagination.
Her lips twisted in disgust. What was she thinking? She’d been carried away by a moment of high fantasy and now… now reality had returned with a thump. A thump that told her she was still just as attracted to him as she ever was and that he was just as big a rat as he ever was. How, during their weekly tutoring sessions she’d managed to convince herself otherwise was still impossible to comprehend. ‘You always see the best in people, Chlo,’ her father used to say when she was a child. He’d said it as if it was a virtue but Chloe wasn’t so sure. Wasn’t that how she’d been blindsided by Liam’s mean trick in the first place?
And now you’re going to put yourself in Liam Hunter’s clutches again? Why not throw yourself under a bus while you’re at it, her brain counselled, it might be quicker.
No. She shook her head as she stopped in front of an exquisite boutique that looked like it would max out a black Amex card if she just walked through the door. No, if she went through with this crazy idea she had two things in her favour. Liam didn’t know who she was and her heart wasn’t involved in the slightest.
Noticing a beautiful pale pink halter-style gown in amongst the couture