Here All Along (10 page)

“Thought so.” Gideon grabbed a dish towel and tossed it to Gabe. “You might want to grab something to drink and leave while you’re still ahead.”

She gave him a disgusted simper and grabbed one of the rigged sodas before leaving with her nose up in the air.

“Thanks, Kid,” Gabe muttered as he finished drying off.

“Don’t call me that.” Gideon leaned against the counter and wondered how much of his plan he should share with his co-star. After all, Gabe seemed more than willing a few days ago to help him with Sarah. “I wanted to run something by you.”

“So you didn’t just show up to prank me? I’m touched.”

“No, seriously, this has to do with Operation My Fair Lady.”

Gabe snapped his head up, his expression alert and attentive. “I’m listening.”

“You know that she won a Golden Globe, right?”

“Yeah, for Best Supporting Actress in a Mini-Series.”

Gideon paused, wondering how much of Red’s past he should reveal. “Well, a few years ago, she sold it.”

“She what?” Gabe’s face fell slack in horror as though she’d spit in the Pope’s face or something. “Why?”

“She was low on funds.” A partial lie. In truth, she’d sold it to buy ecstasy, a case of Cristal champagne for her friends, and God only knew what else. “But that’s beside the point. A month ago, I tracked it down and bought it off a memorabilia place down in Miami.”

“And what did she say when you gave it to her?”

Gideon stared at the scuff marks on his shoes and added a fresh one in his moment of uncertainty. “I, um, haven’t given it to her. Not yet, anyway.”

“Why the hell not?” Gabe smacked him on the back of his head. “You are sitting on a gold mine—pun intended—and you haven’t acted on it?”

“I know how she feels about her past and her former career. I was worried it might dredge up those negative feelings again.”

“Or you were probably scared you couldn’t perform under pressure because I can guarantee you, she’ll want to screw you senseless as a thank-you.”

“Don’t talk about Red that way. It’s not like that between us.”
Not that I didn’t wish it was
.

“Then what is it? Are you content with this seeming platonic bullshit façade you two have that’s covering up heaps of sexual tension? Or are you willing to take the risk to make things happen?”

“We’ve never even kissed.” He pushed off the counter and paced, raking his hand through his hair. “At least, not when a script hasn’t called for it.”

“But doesn’t she help you run lines?”

“Of course she does. But I’ve always stopped when it came to those things. Sort of an unspoken rule between us.”

“That’s only adding to your frustration.” Gabe opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. “You didn’t tamper with these, did you?”

“No.”

Gabe took a long drink from the bottle, but the tightness in his shoulders spoke of a mind that was clearly on overload. “Why don’t you just have her run a scene with you and follow through?”

“Because I—” Gideon stopped and leaned on the counter. “If I had any fleck of interest from her, just a small hint that she felt the same way about me as I do for her, I would’ve acted on my feelings long ago.”

“And what makes you think she doesn’t feel the same way?”

“Because when I asked her to be more than friends, you would’ve thought I’d asked her to kill someone.”

Gabe closed the space between them. “Was it disgust? Or fear?”

“The latter.”
I hope
.

“Then try melting her heart the other way. You already have the means to do it.”

“So you think it would work?”

Before Gabe could answer, an ear-piercing shriek came from the next room. “Those bastards!” Mackinzie yelled.

Shit!
He’d forgotten about the Diet Coke.

“Go, Kid.” Gabe pushed him toward the door. “Leave before she catches you. I’ll smooth things over here. Just figure out a way to give Sarah her award.”

Mackinzie’s rants grew louder, reminding him of the night she’d ruined his date with Sarah at Guy Savoy’s. And like that night, he didn’t want to get tangled up in her snare when he already had plans with Sarah.

He dashed for the door and never looked back.

***

“Gideon, there you are!”

Sarah intercepted him before he made it to his bedroom to retrieve the award. She looped her arm through his and guided him to her bedroom. “I want to show you a few things.”

She was so excited, so animated, so lit from within that he couldn’t deny her anything. All he could do was marvel at her radiance.

“First off, I was able to reschedule our dinner at Guy Savoy’s for next week.”

He paused and mentally ran through his schedule. “I think we’re out in the desert next week.”

“You are.” Of course—Red knew his schedule better than him. “But you should have enough time to shower and change for the nine o’clock reservations.”

She pushed him into her room and closed the door behind them.

His pulse cranked up a notch. He was alone with her.
In her bedroom
. It would be the perfect opportunity to pull her into his arms, kiss her until they both fell onto the bed…

“Voila!” His fantasy slid to an abrupt stop when she held up a black dress.

Her bright smile forced him to hide his disappointment. “It’s a dress.”

The corners of her mouth fell, and a crease appeared above her nose. “Yes, but I made it. It’s one of my Red Sage designs.”

Shit!
He scrambled for something to say. “It’s…nice.”

“Oh.” She lowered the dress and turned away.

Now he felt even more like a son of a bitch. He took her hand. “I’m sorry, Red. I don’t know that much about women’s clothes.”

“Probably a good thing,” she teased with a half-smile, and some of his worry ebbed.

“I bet it would look better on you.” He pulled her closer until the width of their joined hands marked the space between them. “Care to model it for me?”

“I can take it one step further. Why don’t I wear it tonight, and we can do a touristy thing or two?”

“You sound like you already have plans.” Sage Holtz might have done whatever the moment called for, but the Sarah before him was not known for her spontaneity.

“Actually, I do.” A mischievous gleam appeared in her eyes before she pushed him out of her room.

He’d have to wait until after she changed into the dress before he found what she had in store for him. But at least it gave him a chance to run back to his room and retrieve a hat and the Golden Globe award.

The box was battered, and he wasted a whole minute trying to decide if he should open it and give her the statue, or let her open the box and be surprised. In the end, he decided to go with the latter. He arrived at her room just as she was opening the door.

His jaw dropped, and he forgot all about the box in his hand.

Sarah leaned against the door frame like a classic Hollywood starlet in a little black number that accentuated every curve and made her boobs look twice their size. With her hair up in a simple bun, she looked like a sexier version of Holly Golightly from
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
, only without the bling. She was elegant, classy, and yet managed to leave him salivating.

“Better?”

“Much.” It was all he could manage to say while every drop of his blood rushed to his groin.

“I’ll take that as a win,” she said with a soft laugh before wandering back into her bedroom and picking up a stack of oversized paper. “I’d been tweaking this design for weeks.”

He followed her in and peered over her shoulder. Each sheet contained a sketched variation of the dress she wore, but he had to agree that the final product was far better than anything on paper. He swept his gaze across the room and noticed more small stacks of paper littering the bed and floor. “More designs?”

“Um-hmm.” She laid the sheets in her hand down on her desk and moved about the room to straighten up the other piles of paper, giving him a great view of her ass as she bent over. “I need to get serious about this fashion design project if I want to have any hope of moving on from my old life.”

His blood chilled, and all traces of the heated desire he’d felt seconds ago vanished. “Moving on?”

“Yes, I—” She stopped when she turned around. “What’s wrong?”

He licked his lips, but his mouth was too dry to even moisten them. The box in his hand seemed to triple in weight. “Why do you want to leave?”

She stared at him for what felt like an eternity before lowering her gaze and letting the designs in her hand flutter to the floor. “It’s been three years, Gideon.”

“I know, but there’s no rush.” He took a step toward her, longing to wrap his arms around her and keep her close to him for the rest of his days, but the slump of her shoulders warned him not to push his luck. “I mean that, Red.”

He wanted to tell her more, that she didn’t have to move on. Or leave. Or even do what she was doing now. In his ideal world, she’d be his wife, not his assistant. She’d sleep beside him every night in his bed, not in the next room over. And if she wanted to pursue this fashion endeavor, she could do it because she wanted to, not because she felt like she had to.

“I know. And you’ve been more than patient with me while I got my shit together, but I need to let go of this business and carve out a new niche for myself. Maybe then, I could finally afford to move out of your garage apartment.” Frustration laced her words. She exhaled with a loud sigh and shrugged her shoulders. “But enough about this. I scored us nosebleed tickets for the Blue Man Group at the half-price ticket booth, so we’d better get moving if we want to get there before the curtain goes up.”

It was her way of changing the subject, and he questioned the timing of his gift once again. She wanted to leave Hollywood behind, and he carried a memento of her greatness in his hand.

Sarah pointed to the box. “What’s that? Another autographed football?”

He had a split second to choose. Give her the box now, or wait until a more appropriate time?

He chickened out. “Um, yeah.”

“You and your sports collection.” She rolled her eyes and brushed past him. “Let’s go, Kid.”

He placed the box on her desk, put on his hat, and followed her out of the room.

***

Four hours later, the elevator doors dinged, and Sarah took him by the hand. “Come on, Kid.”

Gideon expected the Eiffel Tower replica at the Paris Casino to be packed at this time of night, but there was only one other couple on the observation deck. He stumbled out of the elevator and joined Sarah at the railing. The Strip stretched out below them in all its gaudy glory, and yet, it seemed strangely romantic from this height.

When Sarah had mentioned doing some touristy things tonight, he didn’t know what to expect. Or worse, what would happen if someone recognized him wandering the streets. But no one did. It was as though the universe had aligned in just the right way to allow him to be an ordinary person and to enjoy a “date night” with Sarah. They managed to sneak into the show at the last minute, followed by a quick bite on the run from a food vendor, and finally, a trip up the fake Eiffel Tower. Throughout the night, they laughed, teased each other, and fell back into the easygoing relationship they’d had nine months ago when they’d been best friends.

Before he’d suggested they become something more.

But the moment he stood beside her at the railing, things shifted. Best friends would maybe catch a show or a meal on the town, but this location was more appropriate for lovers. Why did Red bring him here?

She stared out into the night, her face unreadable. The only acknowledgment he got was the stiffening of her posture.

He mirrored her as the wind ruffled his clothes. “Talk to me, Red.”

The silence stretched between them until he thought he’d encountered one of her stubborn walls that he’d never been able to climb over. But after a few minutes, she said, “You don’t like the idea of me doing the fashion thing, do you?”

“What makes you think that?”

“I saw it on your face earlier tonight.”

He leaned forward on the railing and shifted his weight. He might be a damn good actor, but Sarah knew him too well. “I’m worried.”

“About what? That I’d fail?”

“No, no, no.” He straightened and pressed his palm against his temple. “I’m more worried you’ll succeed.”

Her lips parted, and she tilted her head. “Gideon, I—”

“No, please, hear me out.” He took her hands in his own and faced her. “You’re an amazingly talented woman, Sarah, and I know you’ll make this next venture a success, and that scares the shit out of me.”

“Why?”

Because you’ll leave me
.

That’s what he wanted to say. But his pride spun a different excuse. “Because once you open up your house of haute couture in Paris, you won’t have time for me anymore.” He brushed a stray strand of hair that had been blown free from her bun. “Call me selfish, but I’d miss my best friend.”