Page 24 of My Charming Rival (Stars In Their Eyes 1)
“Jess, we’re all good,” he said gently. “Go get me some pedi shots, and I’ll pretend I never heard that little hitch in your voice when you sounded like you were about to cry.”
“‘There’s no crying in baseball,’” I said, quoting a famous sports movie line as I recovered to my usual, hardened self.
“That’s what I like to hear. Now go take your pissed-off-at-the-world attitude and let it fuel a little photo shoot.”
I ended the call, slid the phone into my back pocket, and marched back to the three-block stretch full of boutiques and cafés and yoga studios and yoga-clothes-selling studios and pilates places and places selling pilates things, each one bookended by a nail salon. It was like shooting fish in a barrel sometimes on this street if you showed up at the right time. At other times, it was a ghost town when it came to famous faces. Today I assumed my best casual afternoon stroll demeanor as I ambled past the stores, perused the entryways, and scanned the pedi chairs as if I were simply looking for a good leather seat complete with massage roller and remote control. I didn’t see Evangeline Harris or anyone else from the LGO show J.P. was talking about—Stacked, a series about hookers that left all the viewers hot and bothered every Sunday night.
As I conducted my recon, I did my best to avoid William. I pretended I didn’t see him on the other side of the street. I acted as if I didn’t notice that he was doing the same thing I was doing. I made believe he wasn’t mirroring me, and that I didn’t agree to a date with him, either. I certainly hadn’t engaged in any flirty texting with him.
But I couldn’t fake it any longer, because a few minutes later, he was crossing the street and walking towards me, all six feet and then some sexiness of him. He had the look, all right. The jeans, the loose and sexy tee that hinted at his abs but didn’t reveal too much, the nicely toned arms on display, those eyes like a stormy sky, and that lopsided grin that I wanted to lick and kiss and smack the hell off his too-fine face.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, and then flashed a smile. I wanted to arrest him for the smile. It was the sort of grin that should be outlawed for being impossible to not adore.
“Yes, I’m so surprised to see you here that I’m about to faint of not surprise,” I said as I stepped onto the next block.
“How was your day?” he asked, as he helped himself to walking next to me.
“It was great,” I said, emphasizing the past tense.
“And it no longer is, I take it?”
“No, actually it just got eons worse,” I said, hoping the lie I’d just spun would shoo him away because I’d spied Evangeline, the biggest-breasted of the big-breasted stars of Stacked, and she was suckling an iced coffee and talking on her phone while wearing short shorts and a red T-shirt and having her toenails polished a shade of purple. One of her co-stars, the pushing-forty veteran lady of the night, sat next to her.
I didn’t want William to see the pirate’s booty I’d discovered, and I knew how to get him out of the way. He was a gentleman, and I would use that in my favor.
I smacked my palm against my forehead. “Crap. I think I forgot to lock my scooter. I better go check it.” I swiveled in the other direction, and then very deliberately stepped on my right foot with my left, as if my feet had gotten tangled up, and I proceeded to trip on the sidewalk. I braced myself with my palms. Even though I knew what was coming, it still hurt when my hands met concrete. But I didn’t care about a scrape if this ruse worked out.
“Ouch,” I said and winced. The wince wasn’t fake.
He knelt down next to me. “Are you okay? Can I help?”
I shook my head bravely, putting on my best game face. “I’m fine,” I said, and pursed my lips together. I tried to stand, but moaned as if it hurt too much. “My scooter,” I muttered. “Someone’s going to steal it. I have to go lock it.”
“Let me go check for you, Jess,” he said, and then trotted down the block, his back to me, on his way to my scooter. I jumped up, unzipped my backpack, grabbed my camera, and popped into the doorway of the salon to snap several zoom-in shots of the actress with the larger-than-life breasts, then a few more of her companion.
A short woman with a white lab coat ran to the door and held her palm up, the official sign for get your damn camera out of my store/face/life.
