Chapter Fifteen
“This is a great rental. How’d you find it?” Bethany held her sandals in one hand while they strolled along the beach. She tried to remember the last time she’d squished sand between her toes.
Hank shined a flashlight ahead of them. “My assistant, Pamela, tracked it down.”
“She’s traveling with you?”
“No, she’s in LA. But she takes care of stuff like this for me.”
“You’re lucky to have her.”
“Yeah, I suppose. Most celebrities do use assistants—we have crazy schedules.”
“Is she upset with you for staying in Cleveland?”
Hank picked up a stone and tossed it into the lake. The breeze ruffled his hair. “She’s used to my travel schedule. I’m not at home much. It won’t be my first trip here or the last. She’s paid well to organize my life.”
“I bet Elizabeth’s not happy you’re sticking around.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know. She seemed anxious to get things settled.”
“She is. I haven’t made it easy on her by hiding in your kitchen. She works hard to make sure I get the right publicity. One wrong story could damage my career and tank hers along with it.”
Bethany stopped to dip her toes in the lake. Although it was a warm night, the water was cold, and that and Hank’s concerns sent a chill through her body. The threat of his career ending reminded her of his plans to open the fitness center. “Is your career in trouble?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. My agent calls it a dry spell. I try not to think about it. If I did, I’d drive myself nuts.”
“Is that why you’re planning to renovate our building and start your new business venture, so you’ll have another source of income?”
Hank turned and grabbed her hands, catching her off-guard. She gasped at the feeling, so warm and solid against her skin. “I’m not putting you out of business. I don’t screw over my friends.”
She kept her hands in his, but it was too dark to see the expression on his face. Surprise carved a hollow in her gut. “So you’ll fix the building and let me rent?”
He squeezed her fingers. “I’d like to.”
Hope rose like a fragile bubble in her throat.
“But it won’t last forever.”
The bubble burst, sending a surge of fear through her body. She pulled her hands from his and wrapped them around her middle.
“Listen, if I don’t open Fitaholics, I’ll need to sell the building at a profit.
My financial advisor says I’ve got too many expenses at the moment to hang onto it forever.
If you have the money, I’m more than willing to sell the building to you first. If not, I’ll need to look for another buyer.
I’ll try to find one who will rent to you and the others. ”
Bethany drew a shaky breath. “How long do I have?”
Hank toed the sand. “I need to make a decision in the next couple of months. I heard you’re entering a baking contest with a large cash reward for the winner?”
“Boy, news sure travels fast. That’s right.
I’m entering my Grandma Lou’s chocolate cake with buttercream frosting in a baking contest sponsored by Fresh close enough to tap him on the arm. “Why not?”
He turned toward her, and the flashlight illuminated his entire face, revealing the vulnerability she’d glimpsed the previous day when he’d told her about his dad.
And then he was looking back toward the lake, taking the light with him.
The beam revealed little whitecaps that broke the water.
“It’s hard to see yourself playing a role. Everyone’s a critic. Even me.”
“Hank.” This time she touched his arm and kept her hand there. A tingle of nervous energy traveled from her hand to her stomach, but she brushed it aside.
The first hill on this roller coaster had been a drop. And there had been lots of twists and turns on the ride. Now she was coming in for the landing.
Her voice had not been much above a whisper, but still he turned toward her. She took another breath and tightened her seat belt. “I won’t critique your acting.”
His breath was warm on her cheek. “Promise?”
His hand settled on hers where she touched his arm, and it felt like he’d stroked a thousand nerve endings. Her breath hitched, and her voice when it came out sounded breathless to her ears. “Yes. I’m sorry I haven’t watched much of your show before now.”
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
“It’ll be fun.”
“Fun,” he echoed. He dropped his hand, and Bethany was shocked at how much she felt its loss.
He pointed the flashlight toward the house. She imagined he smiled, but she couldn’t tell. “Let’s go have some fun.”
She should thank him for the dinner. She should say it’s time to go. Instead, Bethany let him lead her up the steps and into the house. After all, what was a little fun between friends?
The evening was going better than Hank had dreamed. Bethany seemed relaxed and happy and willing to get to know him—both as Hank the actor and the man. Not as her landlord. A friend.
He ushered her into the house and led her into the family room, where a giant flat-screen TV faced a pair of oversized white sofas.
Okay, he was not a huge fan of the white sofas; they were a little too stark for his tastes.
But they were comfortable and complemented the liquor tray on the sideboard.
Besides, they made a great backdrop for Bethany in her stunning purple dress.
“Make yourself comfortable.” He waved a hand in their general direction and watched as she settled her small frame among the cushions, looking like a vibrant jungle flower.
Hank searched until he found the remote on the sleek coffee table and flicked through the menu until he located his TV series. He cocked his head in Bethany’s direction. She sat straight and tall, not even leaning against the back of the couch.
“You go ahead and get started,” he said. “I’ll bring you another glass of wine.”
“Okay.” Her lips tilted up. This time she showed some teeth.
Every time Bethany smiled or laughed at something he said, Hank felt like he’d won a prize.
He was starting to understand her moods and adjust his actions to suit.
Her smile now meant she was nervous—would he take the seat next to her or would he go for the recliner?
He wasn’t sure which she wanted, but he knew what he wanted.
To sit as close to Bethany as she would let him.
To occupy her personal space until she craved his touch as much as he craved hers.
But neither of them needed complications. So friends they would stay.
He pressed play on the remote and then made his way to the kitchen where he poured the last of the Riesling into her glass.
He opened another bottle, then took it and the glass back to the family room.
He returned in time to hear the end of the show’s theme song.
As usual, he cringed inwardly at the lyrics.
“Who battles darkness with a bright desire? Who employs a sword forged in fire?”
And there he was garbed in an outfit that made the most of his pecs, though he knew every woman who watched was looking at more than his muscles. This particular episode was the one where he wrestled a python.
He was in top physical form when they’d filmed the show last year, and the camera angles made the most of his muscular physique.
For months after it had aired, men wrote asking for his personal exercise regimen.
Women had asked if he needed a partner. One crazed fan showed up at his home in LA claiming to be his wife, and he’d filed a restraining order.
Hank gave the glass of wine to Bethany and then sat next to her, leaving a comfortable distance between them. Despite his efforts, she tensed like a mouse who’d been discovered by a cat. She took a large swallow of wine and then another, before setting it on the coffee table.
Hank refilled her glass. He wasn’t trying to get her drunk—he wanted her to relax.
He yawned and stretched and placed his arm on the back of the couch.
Bethany leaned forward and stared at the television.
On screen, Apollo raised the golden python above his shoulders and threw it in the air.
She sank against the cushions, and Hank held his breath, realizing how close his fingers were to tangling in her hair.
Her gaze remained on the television screen. Hank spared it a glance in time to see the rescued woman throw her arms around the god’s neck, while the crowd cheered. The camera zoomed in on their kiss. Hank grimaced, remembering how cold the actress’s lips had been. They’d tasted like wax.
He slid his gaze back to Bethany. From the corner of one eye, he could see she was intent on the TV.
She didn’t even flinch when she leaned farther back, and his fingers brushed her hair.
Hank settled them there and bit his tongue.
He wasn’t putting the moves on her. Friends could touch a little, couldn’t they?
Bethany blinked and closed her eyes.
What would happen if he pulled her into his arms?
For some reason, watching her watching him kiss his costar cranked up his desire.
He was a man, after all. And the smell of her next to him, as good as a lemon cream puff, didn’t help.
She dropped her head on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. Hank forgot to breathe.
She didn’t move, so he stroked her scalp, running his fingers through her soft waves. He moved his hand back and forth, first in small motions and then covering more territory.
Hank didn’t know how long they stayed like that, him rubbing her head. Did she enjoy his touch? The way his body reacted to her closeness, you would think he’d never held a woman before. If he kissed her, would it change the budding friendship between them? Maybe she wanted more from him?
Hank turned his head to the left so his lips landed in her hair. That was when he heard a soft grunt. Had he frightened her?
Hank tilted his head to check her face and stilled. Bethany hadn’t been coming on to him; she had passed out on his shoulder.