It was funny how people who had never met him, would probably never meet him, felt they knew him. And while there were always going to be fans who thought he belonged to them somehow, that they were entitled to know everything about him no matter how personal, most of them just adored him and wanted him to be happy. They loved their Super Sexy Scientist Guy, sure, but it now became clear they loved Jack Hamilton just as much. Not all celebrities get a second chance the way he seemed to be. Fans could be fickle and turn on a dime. But they loved him, and they rallied.
And speaking of celebrity, Adam was everywhere: still out every night, always where the cameras seemed to be, and always just available enough for comments. Jack had spoken to him a few times, and their lawyers had spoken a few times as there was a shared responsibility for some of the actions of that night, but Jack hadn’t seen him since we’d been back in L.A.
One night, flipping through channels before bed, Jack stumbled onto a gossip show, and there was Adam, outside a club in Hollywood with three girls and a bunch of cameras, totally in his element. He watched it for a few minutes while I stood in the doorway, not saying a word. He glanced at me, then back at the TV.
“That guy’s kind of a dick,” he said, then changed the channel.
He didn’t even see the pillow coming when I threw it at his head.
Jack stuck pretty close to home during this time, not quite cocooning but just . . . breathing. He read scripts, he helped me run lines, and he eased back into a tentative friendship with Michael, which had always been tenuous at best. Michael continued to be quite protective of me, and he didn’t go as easy on Jack as Lane did. But as a week passed, and then another, things began to get back to normal.
But it was us after all, and the normal was never actually normal. A point proven once more by a phone call from Holly one afternoon. A call she asked us both to be on.
Perched on Jack’s lap, I took the call with him from the patio. In the shade of the lemon trees, we exchanged pleasantries with her until she cut right to it.
“So, Jack, I got a call today asking if you’d be interested in presenting an award at this year’s Emmys.”
I felt Jack freeze underneath me. He hadn’t been out since that night in Vegas, had declined every interview request, and essentially hadn’t been seen since everything had exploded. I scratched at his scalp a bit, letting him feel me. He patted my leg absently, taking a deep breath.
“Hmm, well . . . I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. You?”
“Actually I think it’s a brilliant idea,” Holly countered. “It’s a good way for you to be seen again. You’re a film actor, and the Emmys always has a few movie stars. They’ll be thrilled if you say yes. You can wave to fans, the red carpet is always an easy line to work—no tough questions. Plus you look pretty great in a suit.”
He looked at me. I shrugged to say, It’s up to you.
“I’ll think about it. When do I need to let you know?”
“Soon. It’s kind of a last-minute thing, but it could be a great way to get you back out there.”
He rolled his eyes at that, but in a good-natured way. He’d stuck close to home, but he was getting a little stir-crazy, I could tell. It was time for the movie star to head back into Hollywood. But on his terms. He drummed his fingers on my thigh, thinking it over. “You know what? Fuck it. I’ll do it.” He smiled.
“Well, hold on there, Brit boy. There’s something else to consider.” She paused, and the drumming on my thigh stopped. “They want Grace to present as well.”
Come again?
“Sorry, Holly, they want me?” I’m amazed I remembered how to speak.
“Sure. Your show’s a f**king hit. I’m surprised it took them this long to ask, but that’s showbiz.”
Holy shit. I drummed my own damned thigh.
“But wait, so Jack and I’d be at the same awards? This isn’t the same as us being at a party, same-place, same-time kind of thing,”
Jack started to fume. I put a finger to my lips to shush him. I wanted to hear this. It was something we had to consider.
“Well, that’s the real question, isn’t it?” Holly said. “How do you want to play this off? You know how I feel. I still don’t think it’s a good idea for you two to go public. Jack is a huge draw, and girls want to know anything and everything about him. Knowing that he is officially off the market? Won’t go over well.”
Jack was about to come out of his seat. Good thing I was sitting on him.
“And for the record, Jack, because I know you’re about to come out of your seat, I’m thinking about Grace too. Coming out publicly as your girlfriend affects her as well. You saw how much hate she got when people first just started thinking you weren’t single. You let everyone know she’s your main squeeze? That opens up a whole new level of bullshit for her.”
Jack came out of his seat. I signaled for the phone.
“Hey, Holly, let us call you back, okay?”
“Sure, sure. Is he pacing?”
“He’s pacing.”
“Are his nostrils flaring?”
“A bit. Let me call you back.”
“Grace, this is huge for you. You two do whatever you want, and you know I’ll support it. I work for you. Don’t forget that. But if you’re asking me my professional opinion, it’s to not go public. Pure and simple.”
“I hear you.”
“The Emmys, Grace. They want you to be a presenter. Next year? You’ll be nominated. I promise you that.”
My heart left my body, flew around the backyard, and starting picking lemons off the tree. Holy shit, this was big-time.
“Call me back and let me know, fruitcake.”
“Yep,” I breathed, and hung up, not taking my eyes off Jack, who had stopped pacing and stood before me, tense. “What are you thinking?” I asked.
“I think you should go. One hundred percent you should go,” he said instantly.
“And you? You still in?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I think maybe this is one you should do alone.”
“Now wait a minute. We both need to go.” I pulled at the bottom of his shirt and moved him in between my legs as I sat on the back of the love seat. “I bet Holly has a plan already of how we could both go and still keep up appearances. You know she’s thought this through from every angle.”
His hands went automatically to my hips, and he played with a loose string at the end of my skirt as different arguments were fought across his features, all without saying a word. “How do I say this without sounding like a pompous ass?” He took a breath. “I don’t want to make a night like this—a big night for you—about me. And if I’m there, I’m afraid that’s what it will be. That’s what they’ll make it into.” His eyes were sad.
“Oh, is that all? Pfft, I can handle that.” I took his hands and wrapped them more snugly around my waist. “I’m going to the Emmys, George, like, on purpose. Going to the Emmys. Presenting. At the Emmys—did I tell you that part?”
He smirked, letting me draw him in. “You mentioned something about that. I suppose I’ll have to go too, make sure you don’t get into any trouble.”
“Trouble. Ha. Not me,” I teased, raising my eyebrows as he wrapped his strong arms around me and picked me up, my legs crossed behind his back. “I’m glad you’re doing this. In fact, I think I’ll even wear a slutty dress for you that night, just to drive you crazy.”
“Fucking Nuts Girl,” he growled, racing me across the yard and into the house.
“I need to call Holly back. Wait, wait, slow down, slow down, slow— Mother-of-pearl, that feels good . . .”
True to form, Holly had indeed had a plan ready to go in the event we both said yes. Reluctantly (some of us more reluctant than others), we all agreed it was best for all involved if Jack and I continued to keep our relationship private and not for public consumption. Jack didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all, but when he looked at it objectively, he knew it was still the best course of action.
The plan was remarkably simple: We’d take Michael and Holly as our plus ones. Holly would arrive with Jack, which made sense. Actors took their managers to premieres and award shows all the time, and this way she could be by his side to help manage the questions he’d be asked on the red carpet, just in case a reporter forgot their manners. Michael would go with me, which was again something totally within the realm of the possible. As the creator and head writer of a hit show—a show I starred in and had been invited to the Emmys as a representative of—not to mention being lifelong friends, his walking the red carpet with me would not only make perfect sense, we’d also give them a great story.
We could both go. Separately. And together. Kind of?
And so we found ourselves together in the line at the biggest awards show in television—just in separate limos. We texted each other.
Nervous?
I smiled down at his words on my phone.
A little, you?
I looked out the window at the line of cars, wondering how close to the front we were.
Jack and I had spent the day at the Peninsula hotel getting ready, and by that I mean it took me all day to be buffed and sprayed, teased and twisted, then poured into a dress and sewn in place while he stepped into his suit ten minutes before we left.
And damn did he look good. He ran a hand through his hair, called it good, and was ready to go. Every female in the room sighed when we saw him. It was impossible to be that close to sex incarnate and not need to steal an extra breath or two.
But it seemed all he could see was me, in my not-so-slutty dress after all.
Dressed by a new designer who delighted in working with an actress with curves, I was draped in green silk that shimmered and slithered with every step. I was old Hollywood meets the twenty-first century, and my earlobes sparkled with emeralds that hadn’t been outside a vault since Eisenhower had been in office, on loan from Van Cleef & Arpels. The gems were big enough to choke a horse, and they hung heavy, dripping with sprays of diamonds and barely dusting my shoulders. An emerald the size of a quail’s egg sat on my left hand, catching the light.
And while I could’ve hung a rope of the same around my neck and played Dynasty with the big girls, I kept to what I knew. As Jack’s eyes moved over me again and again, I traced the necklace he’d given me, feeling the words he’d had engraved there.
After a moment, he grinned that wicked grin. “Brilliant,” he pronounced, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips for a kiss. My glam squad sighed in chorus behind me. “Quite a rock you’ve got there,” he remarked, his fingers pressing around the ring, feeling the band. He turned my hand over and pressed a wet kiss in the center of my palm, still fingering my ring.
“There’s a guard over there who came with the jewelry. He’ll have you up against that wall in seconds if you try to steal my bling,” I joked as his eyes flicked over my shoulder. Looking back at me again, he said in a voice low enough for only me to hear: “Speaking of up against that wall . . .”
I must have moaned louder than I thought, as the entire room burst into embarrassed giggles.
“Okay, you two, get it out of your system now,” Holly warned, breezing into the room, all business but dressed in a red sequined gown that said the opposite of business. This was the likely reason Michael’s eyes were bulging out of his sockets.
I shook my head to clear it, still swimming in the images Jack had planted in my brain. Me up against the wall, his hands slipping beneath my skirt, sliding down my body and pressing his tongue against my—
Ding dong.
Gross.
The doorbell brought me back to the present, a present where Jack chuckled, knowing exactly where my brain had been.
“Okay, people. First limo is here. Michael, you’ll take Grace. Jack and I will follow in a bit,” Holly instructed, moving efficiently through the room toward the door.
With this schedule, I’d be arriving well ahead of Jack. I’d likely be through the press line and inside before he even arrived, almost completely negating the possibility of us being photographed together.
Moving as quickly as I could in my dress, which was literally only a breath bigger than I was, I went to say good-bye.
“See you there but, you know, not see you there.” I pressed a kiss on his cheek.
“Can’t wait to see you on that stage, Grace. You look stunning,” he replied, kissing me square on the lips.
“She’s gonna kill you.” I laughed as Holly came running over.
“Ack! You smudged her lipstick! And you, with a big kiss mark on your cheek? It’s like you people have no idea what I’m trying to do here.” She fussed over both of us, surprising Jack when she licked her fingers and started rubbing his face.
“Ew!” he exclaimed.
Laughing out loud, I let Michael lead me away from the room and down to the limo.
Which is where I now sat, moments away from walking the red carpet with my very good friend, who had written something so amazing it actually led to my being here. This was as much an acknowledgment for him and his work as it was for me.
My phone buzzed again, another text from Jack.
Not nervous. Just wish it was later tonight. When I have you all to myself again.
My tummy whooshed, going silly once more at his devil words. If the world only knew—seconds before stepping out on a red carpet—the dirty texts that were flying back and forth.
My face grew hot, and I glanced up at Michael, who was texting as well.
“Holly?” I asked.