Michael had stroked her hair and had said easily, “Not at all, baby. If you really want to be an actress, then we’ll move to L.A. so you can be one.”
His response had surprised her, and she’d twisted around in his arms onto her stomach, propping herself on her elbows to look at him. “Just like that?” she’d asked incredulously. “You’d really give up your career and move to L.A. for me?”
He’d laughed, had touched his knuckle to the tip of her nose. “I can do my job there. And yes, I’d do it for you,” he’d said, and slipped his hand around her nape, pulling her forward. “I’d do anything for you.” And he had kissed her until she really believed he would do anything for her.
She wondered if he was remembering the same moment. Probably not. He probably hadn’t remembered it a week after he’d said it. Just a lot of bullshit from a player.
She looked at him again, the face that had betrayed her, stunned her, wounded her so deeply that she was almost buried beneath her own bitter sorrow and suddenly blurted, “Michael, what the hell are you doing here? How did you end up here, of all places?” she exclaimed, her hand waving at here. “You never said anything about wanting to be in movies. You’re in finance, for Chrissakes—so what the hell, you’re a stunt guy? Are you the fourth stunt guy now? The fourth stunt guy? How is it possible that you are a stunt guy?”
“Well,” he said, wincing a little as his gaze dipped to her lips, “It just sort of happened.”
“No, no, no, something like that doesn’t just sort of happen,” she said, stabbing her hands in the air for emphasis. “And even if it did, how would it happen on my film?”
“My guess? Karma.”
He had to be kidding. He would chalk this up to something as stupid as karma after what had happened between them? Try the devil. Or a hole in the cosmos. Anything but karma. “Karma?” she echoed incredulously. “You think this is karma?” And did he have to look at her lips like that? “This isn’t karma, Michael, this is just . . . just really really . . . un-freakin’-believable.”
For some reason, Michael chuckled. “You know what, Leah? You look amazing.”
Leah instantly put a hand to her hair. “I usually look so much better than this,” she muttered and happened to glance down at her PF Flyers. Oh Jesus, what lame run-into-your-ex shoes. They just screamed loser.
Not to mention the T-shirt cropped at the waist that said Tampa Bay in cursive letters across her chest. She’d never even been to Tampa Bay—she’d picked this up at a thrift shop along with the PF Flyers.
“I don’t know how much better you could possibly look, because you look fantastic.”
He said it so sincerely that the warmth of the compliment seeped under her skin, and she couldn’t help smiling a little. “Thanks. Ahem. So, do . . . ahem . . . ah . . . sodoyou.”
Now his brown eyes were shining in a way that was making her feel slightly woozy. She wondered how he could possibly have that effect on her after what he’d done to her and after all this time. Yet the pull was powerful enough that she felt a slight panic and abruptly stood up. “So listen, I gotta get back to work.”
“Are you sure?” he said, standing, too. “Just take it easy, sit this one out.”
“No, really, I’m okay,” she said, now suddenly feeling frantic to get away from him. “So thanks for helping me and . . .” What? And WHAT? And nothing. There was nothing she wanted to say to him. She gave him a dorky little wave and jogged back to her group, hating him for showing up here after all these years. Damn him.
Once again, Michael Raney had ruined everything.
Chapter Five
SEEING Leah Kleinschmidt knocked Michael flat on his ass—he’d thought so much about her, had lamented leaving her more times than he could count—but this was so unexpected and so shocking, he was not prepared to face her.
Not like this.
Unfortunately, it was too late, because he had seen her, and now he had to get his shit together, because he had to work, and before he did anything else, he had to kill Jack for this little surprise.
Not before he got an explanation of how that asshole had managed to pull this off.
Jesus, the moment he realized he was seeing Leah, that it was Leah out there hurling red balls and dodging even more of them, his heart had stopped beating and had climbed right up into his throat. When their eyes met, and she was hit broadside with a dodgeball and lost her balance, falling in one ugly sprawl of arms and legs, all he could think about was whether she was all right, and he had rushed forward without deliberation.