Impossible Glamour (12 page)

“Really? And what the fuck is your source saying? That Steve was at ACA? Come on, dude, you know how the town churns, especially when we’re a hundred miles away at a company retreat. I know what Steve did today. We chat. I can even tell you what time he took his daily dump.” I took a long drink of wine. Poker. Straight-faced poker. Matt could believe my play, my story, my version of events, and hopefully let the gossip he’d heard die, or he could believe whatever source he had sending him texts and e-mails.

“Gotcha,” Matt said. “Makes perfect sense.” He tapped out a response to whomever had sent him the text about Steve and slid his phone into his pocket.

A long breath eased out of my lungs. My fingertips tingled. Day one of our retreat. Wow, this could be a long week. I needed to talk to Steve. I needed to touch base, schmooze him a bit, make him feel my love and see if I could hear anything in Steve-o’s voice. Anything that would let me know what he was thinking and why in the hell he was hanging out with the president of ACA.

Damn. I finished my wine. How could I get Steve to return my call? How could I find out what the hell was going on? How could— Wait…I knew exactly how I could, and from what I’d found out at the front desk, she was sleeping right down the hall from my room.

Ellen

The movie was just what I needed. After
Trainwreck,
I’d gone with a schmaltzy romantic comedy. The plucky and feisty heroine got the guy, but not before she sat in denial about her feelings for what I thought was way longer than necessary. I still loved the movie and tears leaked from my eyes while the end credits rolled over the TV screen. I pressed the Off button on the remote and grabbed the tissue box beside my bed, then wiped under my eyes. I loved the idea of love. An everlasting happily-ever-after was a great idea, but I’d never seen such a relationship play out, and I wasn’t certain such a relationship existed. I hoped so for my brothers and two sisters. But our parents hadn’t provided a good example.

My parents had been involved for closing in on thirty years, but Daddy had us three kids with Mama while married to another woman, Joanna, who also had two children with Daddy and didn’t even know about us until right before she died. Mama and Daddy still spent time together. From what I gathered, he stayed at Mama’s house at least one night a week…and yet…there was always a twentysomething on Daddy’s arm. Mama never went to events with Daddy. He’d never married Mama. He still dated, and I didn’t even want to think about what else he did with women my age.

Why was I ruminating about family and marriage and relationships? I’d just told Mama a week before that I didn’t have time for thoughts that involved the domestic, and nothing had changed in seven days, had it?

Aside from Webber.

I closed my eyes and tried to shake the thought from my brain. No. No. No. No. Webber was not the guy for me. An inadvertent kiss…twice. Nothing more than that. My heart knew that believing the logic my head was trying to sell would be less painful and make more sense, but right now the memory of Webber standing beside the pool handing me a towel was causing my lady parts to kick into overdrive and disregard logic.

Webber had looked good at the pool today, the setting sun with its golden-hour rays glinting off the warm tones of his skin. The hard planes of Webber’s chest, his flat abs, the beads of water licking down his skin to his board shorts and muscled calves. His eyes were blue and had glinted in the sun.

I pressed back into the pillows in my bed. Gone were my tears. My hand drifted across the top of my nightshirt and pressed down my belly. Webber. Webber with his short hair and that smile. My fingertips reached the edge of my sleeping shorts and pressed under the elastic while my other hand slowly circled my pert nipple.

His lips on mine had been soft yet insistent. His tongue had probed deep into my mouth. My fingers slipped around the edge of my sex. The memories of my time with Webber flooded my mind. The heat of his kiss. My desire. How I’d wanted him to press his body against mine and take me. I still wanted that. My fingertip danced across my clit and my mouth dropped open. My eyes closed and Webber’s face, his voice, his body, filled my mind. My fingertip stroked my slick nub.

A knock at the door jolted me from my fantasy. My body stiffened. The time wasn’t late. I yanked my hand from beneath my shorts, stood, and straightened myself. A quick glance in the mirror above the desk just to be certain I wasn’t completely disheveled revealed that I looked pretty decent for a woman who’d spent the past two hours crying over a movie in bed.

Another knock, this time more insistent.

There was only one person I knew at this resort, the same guy I’d been about to touch myself while fantasizing about. I sure as hell hoped it wasn’t him.

Ellen

“Webber, is that you?”

“Yeah. Sorry, Ellen. I need to talk to you. I need some help.”

Help? From me? What could I possibly help Webber with? I was quite certain about the kind of
help
Webber could provide me. What would he do if I asked? If I told him about the little fantasy I’d been indulging before he arrived? I pressed my palm to my cheek. Nope. Not going to the sexy-place with Webber. Too tricky. Too complicated. Just too much.

Plus Daddy would kill him.

I pulled open the door but stood in the space, blocking Webber from entering my hotel room because Webber in my hotel room was one step closer to me indulging my Webber fantasy.

“What do you need,
Webzie
?” My insouciant tone was meant more as a personal reminder to me than a slap at Webber. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to convey my most hard-core,
I am woman hear me roar,
not-interested stance.

“Can I come in?” Webber arched an eyebrow and a smile curled about his lips.

To let him into my room was to court disaster in a full-on full-frontal with the Webz, but to not invite Webzie in was to nearly admit that I couldn’t trust my libido where he was concerned. His smile widened. He was loving this a little too much. He knew. He knew why I was blocking the door to my room, and he seemed to be loving this little bit of power he had over me.

“Sure,” I said and smiled back. “Why not?” I waved my hand in front of me and opened the door wider. Brinksmanship? No problem. I was an adult woman with absolutely no whiskey shots in my system. I could totally entertain Webber, with that fine-looking ass that just went by me, without any kind of sexual interaction.

Maybe.

Heat flushed through my body. My tongue flicked out over my lower lip. My eyes caressed Webber’s legs and clung to his rear end. He spun on his heel and pointed at me, his mouth open to speak, but the sheepish look on my face gave me away. That and what I guessed was a furious blush because my face was suddenly hot, as was my throat and my chest.

Yep. His grin widened. “I need your help,” Webber said again.

I moved to the wall and fiddled with the thermostat. I needed cool air. “Uh, how can I help you?” I spun around from the wall and faced Webber. “You have a mole you need looked at?”

I closed my eyes. My attempt at doctor humor was an absolute fail. Webber’s gaze glinted with a thousand inappropriate jokes that I truly hoped remained unsaid.

“Uh…” Webber walked toward me. “While that is truly an offer that I might consider taking you up on…”

He now stood just beside me. That scent of soap and man. I fought the urge to reach out and run my fingertips up the back of his neck and into that tousle of blond hair. Pull him forward. Kiss him. Make my fantasy an immediate reality. Muddied waters be damned.

“What I really need is help finding your dad.”

Webber’s words doused my desire.

“You’re Daddy’s agent, don’t you have all his numbers?”

“I do and I’ve tried them. Twice. He hasn’t returned my calls.”

“He does that. Usually means a new woman in his life.”

“Even to you? The kids? He won’t respond to phone calls?”

I ran my fingertips through my hair. “He’s gotten better. A lot better. But yeah, occasionally there is a woman that pulls him in so close that he doesn’t surface for a while. Usually a day or two. The longest was when I was a kid—we didn’t hear from him for three months.”

“Months?”

I nodded. “A model from Buenos Aires. He went to South America, lived there, didn’t tell anyone and wouldn’t return calls. Finally arrived on Mama’s doorstep looking like a hobo before he went home to Joanne and Amanda and Sterling.”

“Wow.” Webber sat on the chair beside the desk. “Didn’t know about that side of Steve.”

“Ladies first, family second. That’s not a surprise, is it? Isn’t that how agents roll too?”

“Hey!” Webber pressed his palm to his chest as though incredibly affronted by my assessment. “Not this agent. The ladies know from beginning to end that Webber is a noncommitment type of guy. Right? Have you ever heard a woman say I led them on?”

“Nope. In fact, I’ve heard some of your exes say you were actually a good guy. Sweet. Kind.”

“See.”

“Not nearly as self-involved and narcissistic as you originally appear.”

“I can’t get involved with anyone,” he said. “I got the partnership up in the air and your dad and this thing with my mom—”

“What’s up with your mom?”

It wasn’t as though Webber was an amoeba and had simply sprung into life by asexual reproduction, but I hadn’t really thought of Webber’s mama.

“Alzheimer’s.”

“She has—”

Webber nodded. “Early onset. Started before I was in college. Not going away and not getting any better.”

“I’m sorry, Webber.”

“Yeah, me too. So I got that to help with. Someone has to take care of Mom, especially after all those years she took care of me.”

“She lives with you?”

“Near me. With a full-time caretaker. I go by a lot, but this week my visits will be a little sparse.”

I was surprised. I had no idea of Webber’s commitment to family and his mom. Nor did I know that he fought the Alzheimer’s-family-member battle nearly every day.

“How can I help?”

Webber sat on the couch and perched in front of me. “I’m up for partner at CTA, and I just heard today that your dad took a meeting with Thad Taylor, the president of ACA.”

“And you’re worried Daddy is moving agents?”

“You do know the biz.”

“Again, not my first rodeo.” I sat back in the chair and squinted. “Webber, Daddy loves you. Why would you think he’d leave?”

“At the wedding I misplayed my hand, and I’m wondering if he thinks maybe I’m not the right guy. That I’m too junior for him, that maybe he needs to be with a bigger player.”

“I didn’t know there were bigger players in Hollywood than the Webz.” I teased him a tiny bit, missing the cocksure grin and wanting to get it back on his face. He rewarded me with a halfhearted smile.

“Well, this may not be your first rodeo, but there are definitely bigger players in town, and Thaddeus Taylor is one of them.”

“What happened at the wedding?”

“I need another yes vote for partner, and if I can get your dad to option these books in this series then one of the partners will give me their vote.”

“And you told Daddy that? He’d love to help you, I can’t imagine—”

“I didn’t tell him everything.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That the studio wants him for the role, which they do, but that I wanted him to use the discretionary fund to option the book so he could move fast.”

“Which Daddy thought meant the seller didn’t really want him for the project because you didn’t tell him you needed to do this quickly for the partnership vote because you’re afraid he thinks you’re small potatoes.”

“Definitely not your first time at this show,” Webber said. “You’ve managed to sort out in thirty seconds what has taken my assistant years to understand.”

“I’m pretty smart. Quick learner. Photographic memory.”

“Damn.” Webber shook his head. “You’re beautiful. What a brain. What a package.” He cocked his eyebrow, and honest surprise curled around his lips.

Heat curled up from my toes and through my body. The gray shorts and ripped UCLA shirt I was wearing in preparation for bed now bothered me. Why didn’t I ever dress like a girl? Maybe more like Sophia? Everything I wore was too utilitarian—at least in this moment my wardrobe suddenly seemed much too basic.

I turned toward the terrace doors. “You misjudged Daddy. He loves to be the savior, not just on-screen. He’ll do anything to help an underdog. If you’d told him what was really going down, he’d already have the book under option. But now—”

“He hates obfuscation. I know, I know. We had the whole ‘always tell me the truth about what’s going on’ when he signed with me. Which I did, until now when my ego was involved. Damn ego.” Webber jumped up from the chair and paced. “I just couldn’t tell him that I felt small and, you know, not worthy to work with such a famous guy.” His eyes locked onto mine. “He’s an honest to God Legend, Ellen. I mean, you know him as Dad, but to me and the rest of the world. The man is bigger than life.”

“Oh, I know.” I pulled open the terrace doors and walked onto the deck. Cool evening air curled around my arms and neck. A deep breath. Space and cool air. The room felt tight. Squeezed too close to Webber, to something I wanted but definitely shouldn’t have. He followed me out onto the deck and stood beside me at the railing.

“I don’t think he’s avoiding you, and he doesn’t think you’re too small to rep him.” The light had faded from the sky and the stars sparkled. “He says good things about you and how you represent him in the business.”

“Yeah?”

Through the darkness I saw hopefulness on his face.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

The scent of soap with traces of wine and those gorgeous blue eyes. Webber stood so close to me. Heat thrilled between us. My entire body tingled. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.

His gaze raked over my body and desire thickened between us. Why Webber? Why now?