That was a long time. She’d been away from home less than three weeks and it felt like forever.
“And not all the people were great,” he added. He looked over at her then, and she wondered if the candlelight was proving as flattering to her as it was to him, all shadows and glowing planes. He looked bedroomy and delicious. Damn. She needed that electricity to come back on before she did something regrettable.
“Like what people?” she asked. “You mean Blake?”
His gaze dropped to his beer bottle. He nodded and picked at the label. “Yeah, Blake, for starters. He’s changed a lot in the last couple of years. I’ve been with him since the first season, and in the beginning it was great. Either one of us would do anything to get an awesome shot or find the perfect angle. We knew we had to be bold, offer something different to give the show real substance. It was a team effort, but somewhere along the line Blake started to believe his own hype.”
“His own hype?” She was very familiar with hype.
“At some point being famous became more important to him than creating a quality product. Now he’s just interested in showing off his new veneers and landing sponsorship deals. The show has become about him rather than the adventure, and I can’t stand that empty celebrity mentality. If I’m filming something, I want it to be real, have some substance. I want it to count for something. That’s why I quit.” He tipped his beer to his lips and took a fast swallow, then looked back at her and offered half a smile. “How about you? You must’ve left a job back in Miami. What do you do?”
What did she do? Um, she did all the stuff he just said he disliked. She spent her days in front of a camera helping her family become famous simply for the sake of being famous, and as a stylist she produced no product, other than image—for other people trying to be famous.
“Um, I work with my family. That’s sort of a team effort too.”
“Ah, a family business? What kind?”
“Soap.” The word popped out, just like a bubble. A soapy, sudsy bubble, and it wasn’t a complete lie. She did help her mother make soap once in a while, and they did sell it from a trendy little boutique near Rodeo Drive for sixteen dollars a bar. “We own a soap company. It’s really my mom’s gig but everybody gets involved.”
He nodded. “Interesting. So, why leave the soap business and drive up here in the middle of the worst winter Bell Harbor has seen in fifty years?”
His tone was conversational, but she knew he was thinking about her backpack full of money. Anyone would assume she was running away from something, or someone. She realized that, but it didn’t mean she could trust him with her secrets, and given his position on celebrity fame, he wasn’t very likely to be sympathetic. She definitely needed to keep the details of her life a secret. She’d move out in a few days and that would be that.
“I told you before. I just wanted a change of scenery.”
He looked around the dark room. “Not much of a view here.”
Au contraire. From where she sat, the view was just fine. This short-haired, smooth-faced version of Grant Connelly sitting in the firelight was sexy as hell, even if he was huddled under an old fuzzy blanket. Warmth coiled at the very center of her and she recognized it for what it was. Judgment-impairing lust.
She’d had a boyfriend or two over the last few years, but none worth giving her heart to, so it had been a while since Delaney had felt this, the quickening of her breath, the flutter in her chest. The longing. It could just be her general loneliness talking. Running away from all the comforts of home had left her vulnerable, and needy. Maybe Grant wasn’t that fine. Maybe his voice didn’t have that melty-chocolate quality after all. Maybe that big hand wrapped around his beer bottle didn’t mean anything other than he had big hands. Although she’d seen enough of him to know that wasn’t the case.
“So tomorrow is the wedding, huh?” she asked. No melty quality to her voice just then. More like a rusty hinge. She cleared her throat. “Doesn’t that mean you should be at a rehearsal dinner right now?”
He straightened his legs, his feet moving closer to hers, and picked at the label on the bottle again. “They had the rehearsal last week because of Tyler’s work schedule. It was the only time they could arrange it. So, yep, the wedding is tomorrow. I get to face all my relatives together in one big room and find out if the rest of them are as annoyed with me as my mother is.”
“Well, she seemed to get over it pretty quickly. I’m sure the rest of them will too.”
“Maybe. Want to go with me?” His eyes were back on her, dark but flickering in the romancey firelight. That dastardly, misleading romancey firelight.
Her hiccups started right on cue. “Go with you?” Hiccup.