TWO
PIQUING HER EARS, her eyes rolled around as she tried to pick out whatever she was supposed to hear. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Exactly. Their power management systems are down here. We should hear them or feel the vibration.” She felt something, though hadn’t pinpointed what the weird gut quivering was yet. She’d put it down to their predicament, except she’d felt it in the elevator too. “If it’s the storms, the cellular network could be affected too.”
He put his phone back in his pocket.
“Oh,” she said.
Being in a restricted space with such a famous, and attractive, man hadn’t been on her night’s itinerary.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking up at the ceiling. “If this is a hotel or city-wide problem, we could be here for a while.” In the face of his honest contrition, her laughter was completely inappropriate. She smiled but was quick to lift her hand to her throat, somehow damming it. “Are you laughing?”
“No,” she said, clearing her throat and shaking her head. “No!”
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing, I just…” No point denying her amusement. “You’re Roman Lowe…” That wasn’t much of an explanation. “Action star, right? I sort of expect you to pull out some gadget or start scaling the walls… maybe shoot your way out.” When he didn’t smile, she panicked. Had she offended him? This was real life, not a TV show. It wasn’t the time for dumb jokes either. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lowe, that wasn’t funny, I… I didn’t mean to say that…”
The dazzling power of his unexpected smile immobilized her. The gleam was impressive given the lack of light and the ten feet between them.
“Don’t think I’m insured to perform stunts at charity events.”
Valid point. A guy like him was valuable… What fate would befall her if something happened to him?
“Well, I guess if I was going to get trapped with anyone, a superstar is a great choice. Someone will come looking for you, won’t they?”
The smile faded as he slid his hands in his pockets.
“Won’t someone come looking for you?” he asked. “Should I know your face?”
“Oh no, I’m not famous like you.”
Keeping up with the latest happenings must be difficult for actors and crews given they worked such long hours.
“I work for Brooker, part of the event management group.”
“That organized tonight?”
She nodded. “I haven’t worked for them for long… and if the power in the building is down, they’ll have other things to worry about.”
“Then I guess we better get comfortable,” he said, nodding at her side. “What’s in the bag?”
The gift bag in her hand, right, yes.
Jumping to it, she hurried to him, arm extended. “It’s for you.”
“Me, huh?” From the bag, he produced a bottle of Scotch. “Thank God for small mercies.”
After tossing the box aside, he opened the bottle and held it toward her, being polite.
“You want me to…? Oh no, I’m working… and my employer paid for that.”
Someone did, and it wasn’t her. Not getting sloshed while she was on the clock was one of those unwritten rules that—actually, it probably was written somewhere on the paperwork she’d signed when joining the agency. Shame, a little liquid courage would go a long way.
“You can’t make me drink alone,” he said, urging it toward her. “What’s your name?”
“Bambi,” she said, curving her hand around the bottle. Before raising it to her lips, she pointed it at him, making eye contact for the first time. “And it’s been my name for the last twenty-five years, so believe me, I’ve heard all the jokes.”
Another smile. The lip of the bottle met her mouth, but she couldn’t drink with their eyes locked. Fixating on someone most people only ever saw on screen was odd. The power had a tractoring force, like it would if he was in some major blockbuster. Only this time, he was staring back.
Gravity begged her closer, while weak restraint told her it wasn’t a great idea. What would she do if she went over there? Embarrass herself, no doubt.
Whatever was churning in her gut didn’t feel like intimidation. She wasn’t starstruck. Whatever was in him, looking back at her, seemed curious. What an ego, why would he care about someone like her?
When it was impossible to delay anymore, she tipped the bottle and winced at the taste of the liquor. Swallowing was a fleeting victory as she coughed at its potency.
Lowe breathed out a laugh. “Not much of a drinker?” he asked, taking his turn.
“Not something this rich.” She wiped her mouth. “I’ve never had Scotch before. I’m more of a sweet wine girl. I don’t drink hard liquor…” Shaking her head, she laughed and wrapped her arms around herself to squeeze her own shoulders. “One mouthful and I’m rambling already.”
Lowe wasn’t nervous about drinking. In the time she’d been talking, he’d had another three mouthfuls.
“You’re not freaking anymore, Little Fawn.” He gave the bottle to her again. “It’s good for something.”
“Liquor will do that, I guess.”
Leaving her there pondering whether to drink more, Lowe went to the stacked mattresses and picked one up. Just like that, he plucked it up and carried it across the room. Stepping aside, he let it fall flat on the floor and used his foot to push it flush to the wall.
“Do you want to sit?” he asked, taking off his jacket to lay it at the head of the bed.
“On a bed?”
He loosened his tie and undid a couple of shirt buttons. “I don’t see any chairs.”
No, she didn’t see any either and he was Roman Lowe, it wasn’t like she had to worry about her virtue. Crawling onto the bed, she kicked off her shoes, conditioned not to put them on a mattress.
“If anyone should be sitting on the jacket, it should be you,” she said, picking it up to offer it back as he sat on the opposite edge.
“Why?”
“You’re the superstar, Hollywood guy.”
He took the jacket and leaned closer. “What would the paps say if I was anything less than a gentleman?”
That put a smile on her face. Once he’d laid it out flat again, she scooched higher to sit, resting against the concrete behind them. He didn’t retreat and stayed at her side, shoulder against the wall.
“This must be a nightmare for you,” she said, sipping from the bottle. “Sitting doing nothing, nothing going on.”
“Nothing going on, sure.” He accepted the bottle when she handed it over. “But I’m used to it. There’s a lot of hurry up and wait on set.”
Making TV shows probably wasn’t as glamorous as people thought. Since she had one of the world’s number ones with her, she could find out.
“I bet you have plenty of people to keep you entertained during the wait part.”
“People?” he asked.
“Women.”
LA, Hollywood, the whole entertainment industry seemed rife with flirtation and innuendo. At work, sex came up fifty times a day. Everyone wanted to know who was with who, who had a chance with who, and who they had to do to get what they wanted. The top was within the reach of everyone and no one.
His nasal inhale took a long time to come back out. “Not a lot of time for women on set.”
Honestly? She didn’t know much about Roman Lowe and didn’t own a television. Movies were fun. She loved the experience of buying popcorn and sitting in a comfy chair waiting for the lights to go down.
But she couldn’t tell Roman she’d only seen clips of his work, shown by Renata in meetings about the event, along with a bunch of others. Insulting the man would be insensitive. They’d be stuck there for God knew how long, she didn’t want it to get awkward.
“I’d love to know what it’s like,” she said, twisting to face him.
Lowe lingered over sampling more liquor. The sullen sort of displeasure in his eyes was new. So far, he’d only seemed to look at her in a positive light. Maybe asking about his work gave him the wrong idea about her interests.
The bottle left his lips. “Every set is different.”
“I’m not an actress,” she said, tugging her dress down her thighs. “I have no interest in being on the screen, big or small.”
“Then LA was a strange choice.”
“It wasn’t really a choice,” she said. “I had to leave home… my hometown, so I got on the internet and applied for jobs all over.”
“And you got a hit in LA?”
She nodded. “I traveled to a few interviews in different states, but the LA job… I couldn’t really say no… and the pay was good, so…”
He smiled. “It’s good until you realize it’s expensive to live around here.”
She laughed. “Tell me about it. You hear about the big city, but nothing prepares you for it.”
“How long you been here?”
“Almost three months.”
“Where are you from, Fawn?” he asked. “Originally.”
All the questions, she didn’t expect such a talented superstar to be interested in a nobody like her.
“Wishbone, Washington,” she said, noting his quirk of amusement. “Yep, that’s me, Bambi from Wishbone.”
He offered the bottle to her, but she shook her head.
“Come on, you won’t get in trouble, I promise. Got to keep the talent happy, right?” Maybe, but there were limits to what she’d do. Probably not a policy many in town subscribed to. Lowe put the liquor bottle in her hand. “So, Bambi from Wishbone, are you running from something or looking for something?”
Her eyes stayed on his as she drank. She gave him back the bottle and breathed through the burn.
“Running,” she admitted. Though Lowe’s lips were occupied by the bottle, his brows rose. Guess he hadn’t expected her to be so open. “I was with a guy for a few years, I broke up with him and… he didn’t want to let go.”
Twisting away, he put the bottle on the floor behind him. “I can understand why.”
When he tried to touch her face, she shook her head. “You can’t understand Kevin, least I hope you can’t.”
Her feeble joke didn’t amuse him.
Instead, he frowned. “Did he hurt you?”
“He tried to,” she said. “But I’ve taken control. I’m proud of the life I’m building… well I was. God knows what will happen after tonight.”
“Tonight wasn’t your fault, and you said it yourself, Brooker have other things to worry about. You won’t lose your job, I’ll make sure of it.”
Grinning, she stroked his arm. “I bet you know all sorts of people.”
And could pull all kinds of strings.
“You like fame?” he asked. Noting her confusion, his head tilted. “Yeah, you said you don’t want to be in the movies, doesn’t mean you’re not turned on by notoriety.”
Something in the way his attention drifted caught her interest. There was something there, in his countenance and expression, something concerning.
He’d touched her when the lights first went out. So touching was allowed, right? She shifted onto her knees to slide a hand onto his jaw, bringing his gaze back for her examination.
Looking into him, a rush of worry consumed her. What was that? What was in him that dimmed his light? Overwhelmed by distress and pity, she crawled closer to stroke his other cheek, still holding his jaw.
“What is it?” she murmured, wishing she could see beyond his facade. “What’s wrong?”