“I’ll do us both the favor of not asking what you expected, but I suppose that’s good to hear. I’m sure my reputation varies from person to person, but I’ve always tried to live my life with honesty. Well, as much honesty as my publicist will allow.”
“In my opinion, you can judge a person by their kid, and Blaise is the best. So that alone works in your favor.”
Stark brushed the back of his hand across his forehead. “Phew! I guess I should keep it to myself that I got lucky as hell with him.”
Wyntir’s smile grew serious. “Don’t do that. Don’t discount how much influence you have on him.”
They walked along in silence for a few minutes before he replied. “No, I really did get lucky. After his mother passed…times were hard. One day you’re living your dream life. The next, everything’s different.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. It must be hard raising him alone.”
“I do my best,” he said with a weak shrug. “Not easy in a town as superficial as LA. The best I can do is instill a sense of honor in him.”
Wyntir hadn’t considered how tough it might be to raise a boy alone in Hollywood, even with the assistance of a thousand nannies. “Well, you’ve done a wonderful job.”
“Thanks,” he said, shooting her a grateful smile that set her heart pounding. “I probably sound like a massive hypocrite, talking about honor when I’m lying to everyone about who you are, but in this town…”
“Image is everything,” she finished for him. “I’ve been here long enough to get it, even if I’m not a celebrity myself.”
“Don’t count yourself out just yet, Summer. As Stark Bradford’s girlfriend, you might rack up the celebrity points pretty quickly.”
“Better than being the nanny,” she teased.
His grin set the butterflies loose again. Dammit.
“I agree,” he said playfully. “I think this identity suits you.”
“Better than the real me?” She pretended to be offended, but his earnest expression and the way his eyes glimmered in the low light blew the smile from her lips.
“I think I’d like any version of you, Wyntir.”
They rounded the next block, working their way back to the restaurant, where the paparazzi were undoubtedly waiting, when Stark pulled to a stop and took both of her clammy hands in his. His gaze penetrated her very heart and she became lost in his green eyes as his head lowered toward hers. Was this actually happening? Was she really about to be kissed by the Stark Bradford?
The answer collided with her lips like a ton of bricks, even though his mouth brushed softly against hers, easing into it. Then his tongue flicked along the seam of her lips. They parted instinctively as all of the sensitive parts of her puckered.
Stark broke away for a moment and cupped her cheek, his gaze drinking her in for a moment before diving in for more. She sighed against him, melting into his body as his arms folded around her in an embrace. A fragrant breeze picked up as his hand slipped down to graze the small of her back while the other slid to the nape of her neck. Fireworks exploded in her very soul, like a dark room inside of her had been illuminated for the first time.
When he broke away again, Wyntir was dizzy and breathless. Her knees were actually weak. Like, wobbling and ready to give out weak. She opened her eyes and stared at him with surprise. A rare blush heated her cheeks.
“What was that for?” she panted, searching his face.
Stark’s eyes flicked over to a manicured hedge several feet away and then whispered quietly in her ear. “There’s a pap hiding in that bush.”
He might as well have slapped her in the face. It had all been part of the act, and that hurt more than she cared to admit. She rocked back a step, her fingers brushing against her bruised lips while he appeared oblivious to her shock.
What an idiot!
Chapter Five
The next morning was a typical beautiful Southern California morning, with the sun hanging high and cheery in the bright blue sky, but the birds seemed to chirp just a little louder and the sun felt just a little warmer on Wyntir’s face as she made her way up the sidewalk to Rylan Wilson’s house to pick up Blaise after his sleepover. No doubt last night’s surprise kiss had something to do with it because that kiss was the same reason she couldn’t fully enjoy the day.
She’d stupidly allowed herself to get swept up in Stark’s many charms and lost her head for a minute. No one with her years of training should have forgotten they were putting on a show, but that kiss… It had seemed so real.
Just remembering it set her heart racing. Of course, she pretty much hadn’t stopped thinking about it all damn night. Her dreams, when she’d been able to fall into a fitful slumber, were dominated by Stark Bradford and his mad kissing skills.
But it had all just been another role for him—a new acting gig—leaving Wyntir feeling the fool. It still seemed inconceivable that she’d allowed him to get into her head like that. Such things never happened to her. She was strong and independent, and she certainly didn’t lose her mind over movie stars, no matter how handsome they were. Yet her guts churned like an industrial washing machine.
The front door swung open before Wyntir even reached for the doorbell, Rylan’s face lighting up in welcome.
“Good morning,” she said. She gave Wyntir a quizzical look as she ushered her into the kitchen, where a rumpled Thrett leaned against the counter holding a steaming mug of what smelled like vanilla coffee.
He grunted a sleepy greeting as if he saw her every day, which of course he did. Then Blaise and Trystin tore into the room and ran a squealing circle around Wyntir before running out just as quickly. She gasped at their antics, but Thrett just chuckled.
“Babe,” Rylan said to him with a sweet smile, “would you mind getting Blaise ready to go? Make sure he packed everything.”
“You got it,” he said and then turned his attention to Wyntir. “See you at the office today?”
“No, I’ll be on set all day again.”
“Lucky you,” he snorted and headed out of the kitchen.
As soon as they were alone in the kitchen, Rylan whirled on Wyntir. “You got kissed!”
Wyntir’s heart nearly stopped dead. How the hell did she know? Wyntir had continuously scoured the gossip sites during her mostly sleepless night and no photographic evidence of their moment in the shadows had surfaced. Rylan clearly had some killer Google-fu.
“I-uh-I…” she stammered as she willed the heat in her face to go away.
“And now you’re being coy,” Rylan mused, watching her carefully. “Interesting.”
“No. Not Interesting. And I’m not being coy. I just…don’t want to talk about it.”
“Of course, you don’t. Now spill.”
“First off, which site did you see it on? TMZ? Perez?”
Rylan frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“The picture! Of Stark kissing me. Where did you see it? Because I haven’t seen it yet.”
And I want about a thousand copies of it, she thought but didn’t say.
“I didn’t see a photo,” Rylan said with a satisfied smirk. “I can just tell.”