Love Unrehearsed (37 page)

Marie grabbed the box of tissues that was on the table in the waiting room and took the seat next to her. “He’ll be all right. He’s tough.”

It took about an hour, but I was relieved when we were finally able to visit with him. I almost wanted to cry seeing him bandaged up with a big white cast on his arm. Pete gave me a weak smile, as if he were embarrassed. I slipped my hand into his and he squeezed my fingers while I tried not to think about how bad this day could have been.

The large purple lump on his forehead and a few cuts near his eye were frightening reminders of how things could have turned from broken bones to tragedy.

Limelight

I climbed into the large, black Suburban that had been dispatched to take us to the MTV Movie Awards; I was holding the edge of my thigh-revealing dress so I wouldn’t accidently flash my undies. Thoughts of my friends, of Pete’s slow recovery and that I wasn’t there to help, were with me even though my friends were thousands of miles away on the other side of the States.

I sat quickly in the single seat, ridding myself of my stilettos to make the climb into the bench back seat easier, tamping down the budding nervousness growing from the anticipation. Ryan climbed in behind me, looking devastatingly gorgeous. He was wearing fitted black jeans, a black V-neck tee, a gray blazer, and his game face. The scent of his cologne was enough to make me want to strip him bare and nuzzle his neck for a few hours.

He leered over at me, smirking with those wet lips that knew my secrets, reminding me that all of this celebrity ass-kissing, management team ordering, fan-pleasing hoopla came with the game.

“What?” His question came out as a low, hungry purr.

All I could do was smile and keep the overwhelming craziness in perspective. Nuzzling his nakedness would come later. I bit my bottom lip, thinking about rolling my tongue over all of his secret spots. My mouth was actually watering from thinking about it. His eyes darkened. “I like the way your mind works. Can you hold that thought for a few hours?”

Mike cleared his throat and by his private little chuckle I could tell we weren’t discreet enough.

David sat in front of me, playing with his Rolex again, going over the details of our evening. Trish sat in the single seat in front of Ryan, reviewing some papers and then giving Ryan the rundown of what was expected at our arrival.

I could tell by his concerned look that he was more worried about me than another public appearance. Leaning his head toward me, he softly asked, “You okay?”

My mind initially screamed “hell no” after seeing the huge crowds gathered. Instead I nodded sharply, giving him my most assured smile. “Oh sure. This is old hat,” I joked. I felt the warmth of his hand when his fingers laced with mine.

Ryan gave me a tug and a trademark smart-ass smirk, finding the humor in my response. “Old hat. Cocky. Love it.”

That still didn’t ease the stranglehold of nervous excitement twisting my stomach as we slowed in the line of cars depositing other celebrity attendees. Mike, David, and Trish exited the car first and closed the doors. Ryan and I slid to the middle seats by the doors, where I put my shoes back on, waiting for our cue to exit. Mike would not let us get out until our other security escort was present and he’d had an opportunity to do a scan of the scene. I knew the drill: stay in formation, keep moving. Mike was always positioned behind Ryan on his right side.

Ryan was agitated by the sheer number of people milling about. “I’m not talking to any press.” He growled a low reminder at Trish when Mike opened his door.

No sooner did his toe hit the ground than people started screaming and yelling for his attention. It was so comforting when he turned back to take me by the hand; I knew we were going in as a team.

“We’re to the left for press photos,” Trish advised, steering us toward a huge wall with the MTV logo and year printed in a repeat pattern.

I wanted to let go of his hand so I wouldn’t have to pose for pictures. This wasn’t about me being here; I had come to terms with that. This was all about the celebrity making an appearance that drove the frenzied crowd to near madness. Ryan faltered a bit, unsure at first of what was expected of him. There was always someone instructing, guiding, telling him to go there, stand here, head in that direction. No matter how many times he’d done this before, I could see through the façade that he was nervous.

I watched him take a deep breath and steel his shoulders. In an instant, my humble lover transformed back into the revered A-list movie star. He posed his body with empowered confidence, gave his signature smirk smile, and oozed that natural sexiness that was so graciously captured in thousands of pictures.

It was difficult not to be awed by it.

I panned the entire crowded entrance, the beginning of the red carpet, scanning for familiar faces, for danger, for clarity in the chaos. I stood back while Ryan posed in front of the wall for the throng of photographers. He was moved down the wall in what seemed like five-foot increments while photographers shouted for him to turn in their direction. When he got to the end of the wall, I could see the glaze forming over his eyes from enduring flash after flash.

He held out his hand to me, reclaiming his hold.

“We have—” David started, but Ryan cut him off, tugging me back to the space he’d just occupied on the wall. His hand slid to my ribs, pulling me into his side where I fit perfectly, posing us for the cameras.

My nerves were humming with excitement as I put on my best smile for them, for him.

“We look smashing, darling,” he uttered near my ear, joking with a funny accent to lighten the situation. I felt myself relax a bit more, knowing I was exactly where I was supposed to be, supporting my future husband.

After the prerequisite photo op, our entourage hurried us down the standard red carpet, avoiding all of the microphones, from every media outlet imaginable, that tilted out from behind the barriers, while other lesser-known actors and actresses were basking in the attention. Ryan was scheduled to be interviewed backstage, where he would talk the talk.

We were ushered to an open section of outdoor concrete where I spotted Suzanne Strass, Ryan’s co-star in the
Seaside
films. She was chatting it up with a man and another woman when she spotted me; her smile quickly faded as she eyed me up and down, as if I’d offended her by making an appearance here. Call it cattiness, but something in me made me twist the huge diamond on my finger, my silent way of telling her to
suck it
.

I knew that they were going to be presenting a sneak peek of the second
Seaside
film tonight to ramp up the pending premiere, not to mention that he and Suzanne were up for several awards. She wasn’t a threat as much as she was a thorn in my side. I’d never forgive her for the trouble she caused when Ryan and I first got together, her silver tongue crafting stories, leading me to believe I was just a foolish conquest of his. I’d have to deal with her a few hundred more times, since Ryan had one more film and two press junkets to go through before he was rid of the franchise. I didn’t even want to think about all the interviews and magazine shoots to come.

Before I knew it, Suzanne was standing next to Ryan, pretending to tease him in her own playful way with mock punches. “Hey stranger,” she said on a giggle. Ryan gave her the obligatory distant hug but that was the extent of it. She leaned and gave me a quick shoulder hug as if we were long-lost friends who quite possibly were moments away from stabbing each other in the back. “So good to see you.”

I was shocked by her overt gesture but played it casual. “Good to see you, too. How have you been?” I figured it was benign enough. I could see she was straining to be polite just as much as I was.

Suzanne became animated, displaying exhaustion from an obvious busy career. “I had literally no time to even get ready for this. I just flew in from New York this morning.”

Even though Ryan was involved in another conversation with some man and woman who were blatantly sucking up to him, he entwined his fingers with mine and brought them up to his lips, kissing my left hand while sliding his eyes to Suzanne. I was confused at first until Suzanne scowled, which then had me smiling.

I let her babble on and pretended to be enthralled with her stories even though her presence alone invoked unpleasant memories of my first encounter with this wretched girl. She was the epitome of every diva story you’d ever heard about spoiled rich girls, even going so far as to tell us how deplorable the filming conditions were. If her fans ever knew what she was like in real life they’d probably all stop going to see her movies.

I felt Ryan squeeze my hand twice, a silent reminder that he was paying attention to my situation even though he was busy having his career manhandled by David. His thumb skated over my skin, comforting me with his unspoken acknowledgment. I felt cherished by his private gesture.

“Ryan,” Suzanne interrupted, “we need to discuss what we’re going to do if we win.” A twinge of jealousy struck me as she enthusiastically discussed how to accept their award, thinking of clever ways to act out their “best kiss” onstage. Thinking of him kissing anyone made me slightly crazy. I wanted to grab her by the hair and twirl her around but then what would that accomplish? No. I had to get a grip on my jealousy.
He’s an actor,
I reminded myself.
Shit.

Small hands wrapped around my waist, startling me. It was such a relief to see Kelly Gael and her husband, Cal Reynolds, smiling back at me. I hugged her fiercely.

“I can’t wait for September,” Kelly uttered, bringing up the multi-country press junket for
Seaside II.
The first stop was Berlin. “I need a partner in crime. Please tell me you’re going with Ryan.”

Ryan leaned back and answered for me. “She’s going.” And just like that, he resumed his other conversation.

I smiled, slightly astonished that he was even listening, considering all the commotion that was going on around us. Kelly squealed excitedly and clapped her hands, almost springing up and down in her designer pumps. She had just grabbed me to hug me again when I saw another familiar face, though the expression on it appeared sad.

I moved my head to peer around Kelly’s hair to get a better look at Ryan’s co-star from
Slipknot—
Nicole Devin. I wondered why she was so distraught. Too many people blocked my view, so I stepped back out of Kelly’s grasp and took a few sidesteps to my left, forcing Ryan to release my hand.

Nicole was apparently pleading with someone as if she’d done something that she’d regretted and was beseeching forgiveness, but I couldn’t see who it was. There was so much drama painted on her face that the desire to find out why became a burning need.

If the guy in the dark suit would just move,
I thought, trying to will him to obey my mental plea. It shocked me when he turned his head, as if he’d actually heard me. I squinted, not sure that my eyes were accurate at this distance. He showed more of his profile, and that’s when I fully recognized him. I sucked in a deep breath, hoping my vision was betraying me; after all, I did have several glasses of champagne in me.

He glanced completely around, fortunately failing to connect with my gaze, which gave me a false sense of relief considering that I had no idea why he was here, nor did I want him to see me.

Ryan recaptured my hand, breaking my surveillance. “What are you looking at?”

I wanted him to wait so I wouldn’t lose track of my targets, but he moved in closer.

I looked up into his eyes, which were showing his concern. “Kyle is over there.”

I felt him go rigid. “Where?”

“He’s wearing a dark suit. Over there next to the woman in the light gray dress. See him?”

Ryan spotted him and then scowled, none too pleased that he was here. “The guy just won’t go away,” he growled, seething now.

“Nicole is over there.” Some of the crowd moved along and that’s when I noticed who she’d been talking to, which confused me even more. “Is that?”

Ryan drew in a quick breath, exhaling out her name as if to purge his body of toxins. “Lauren.”

Wonderful. The bitch from Florida, in the flesh.
“Are they arguing?”

“Appears so.”

Now I was even more curious, like watching one of those pathetic reality shows where the drama is over-the-top, but for some reason you just can’t shut it off. “I didn’t know they knew each other.”

Ryan’s hand tightened on mine, almost to the point of pain. “I didn’t know, either.”

It obviously bothered Ryan to see them all interacting, although judging by the way Kyle glanced around, he seemed bored with the whole thing. I watched as Kyle’s gaze lingered on the very short dress and long, bare legs just a few feet away.

Lauren seemed to be making a point, trying to placate Nicole now. Apparently the heated conversation had taken a new turn. Lauren pulled Nicole in for a hug. I was shocked by their overt friendliness; Nicole had her face pretty much buried in Lauren’s neck, and then for a moment I swore they were about to kiss.

Ryan tugged my hand, irritated by it all. “Come.”

I wanted to resist, reluctant to tear my eyes away from the girl drama, but his tone left no room for arguments.