“Want me to show you how much I love your butt?”
“No!” She playfully pushed his chest, and he fell back against the cushion. She rubbed his feet again. “Did you know a quarter of your bones are located in your feet?”
“This is just like math tutoring all over again,” he teased. “I’m thinking about your ass, and you’re spewing academics.”
They both laughed. She picked up the remote and clicked on the television and the DVD player.
“Porn?” He sat up again, and she pushed him back down.
“Drink your tea, sex maniac.”
Unforgiven came on. His favorite movie. “Baby . . .” He sat up again, slower this time, and slid an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. “You remembered?”
“I remembered,” she whispered. “‘Hell of a thing, killing a man. You take away all he’s got and all he’s ever gonna have,’” she quoted from the movie he thought she’d never watched. “I used to sit at the top of the stairs and listen to the movie while you and Ben watched. But I might have to cover my eyes at the bloody gunfight with that Daggett guy.”
He moved his feet off her lap and hauled her up so she was lying half on, half beside him.
“I wasn’t done pampering you,” she complained with an adorable pout.
“This is the only pampering I need. You by my side. Always.”
He kissed that pout off her lips, and she snuggled in against him, resting her cheek on his chest as the movie began playing.
“I hate the idea of leaving next weekend without you to finish filming in LA. Think you can take a day or two off to come home with me Saturday morning before we start filming again? I know you’ll have to close the bakery, but I can subsidize that. And you can come back Sunday.”
She drew slow circles on his stomach for a long, silent moment. Then she lifted a sweet smile in his direction. “You don’t have to subsidize anything. I want to go. I’m just nervous about LA. It seems so . . . big.”
“You handle big things like a pro,” he teased.
She rolled her eyes, but her smile never faltered.
“We don’t even have to leave my house, Wills. I want to be with you. I want you in my space. In my world. In my bed, so I can hold you, and love you, and wake up with you. I’ll have withdrawals if I don’t see you in the morning, and that could wreak havoc with my acting.”
She pressed a kiss to his chest and laughed. “Is it true that you don’t bring women to your house?”
“I see Patch has a really big mouth.”
“And you have a picture of me in your bedroom?”
“Yes.” He feigned exasperation. “But if you want to know which one, you have to come back to LA with me.”
She rested against his chest again without answering. Many minutes later she said, “Of course I’ll come,” and he finally felt like he could breathe again.
She fell asleep before the gruesome scene she’d hoped to miss, and Zane lay awake for a long while after the movie ended, wishing they were filming the entire movie in Sweetwater. How could he ever have thought it would be easy to walk away from Willow when they were done filming? A fake engagement to the woman he’d always wanted had been his most brilliant idea and his worst.
They never should have lied to her family. The guilt was killing him, and even though Willow had come clean to Bridgette, he knew it had to be eating away at her to have lied to the others. When he’d called them about being there to support Willow the first day on the set, they’d been eager to help, and it had driven that guilt even deeper. He needed to rectify that situation in a way that wouldn’t come back on Willow.
He pressed his lips to the top of her head and pulled the throw blanket from the back of the couch over her. “I’ll fix this, baby. I’ll fix everything.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
IT WAS BOUND to happen at some point. Willow hadn’t known when or how, but she’d assumed she’d eventually meet Remi Divine. She just hadn’t expected it to be Tuesday evening at eight o’clock while she was sitting on the steps of Zane’s trailer in a pair of shorts and one of his T-shirts tied at the waist like an eighties girl at a creek party, drinking a Kinky Pink cocktail and eating all the frosting off a dozen cupcakes. With her fingers. She smiled up at the Natalie Portman lookalike, who was even more gorgeous in person than on the big screen.
“Hi.” Did that sound too perky? Not perky enough? Like I’m as lame as a drunken duck at the moment? She’d had a hell of a day at the bakery. The oven that had been on its last leg had died, leaving her with one, which was fine most days but would cause a crunch with her next big event. She’d called the distributor, but the model she wanted couldn’t be installed for another four weeks. She pushed to her feet and held out a hand.
Remi, who was in full makeup with her hair tied back in some kind of complicated knot and wearing a cute little silky robe and heels, glanced down at Willow’s hand with a disgusted expression.
Oh shit. Willow realized she’d been sucking frosting off her index finger when Remi had approached, and quickly pulled back her hand, wiping it on her back pocket. “Sorry! Um, hi. I’m—”
Remi lifted her adorable and slightly pointy chin, and in a voice as rich as dark chocolate said, “I know who you are. Willow Dalton. Zane’s fiancée.” She said fiancée as if it were a dirty word.
Willow’s stomach sank, but she wasn’t about to let a snooty actress make her feel bad about herself or how she felt about Zane. She lifted her own perfect chin and squared her shoulders, meeting Remi’s serious gaze. Jesus, did the woman even know how to smile, or was that a trick of the camera? She emitted sweetness like syrup on pancakes on the big screen.
“Yes, that’s right.” Willow held out her left hand, flashing the gaudy ring, which earned an appreciative “Hm” from Remi.
“You’re waiting for him.” It wasn’t a question. She walked with the grace of a swan and the coolness of a movie star to the steps of the trailer and sat her tiny ass down, patting the space beside her.
Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Willow sat next to her. “I’d offer you a drink, but all I have are these.” She held up the six-pack. “Kinky Pink, ‘an irresistible combo of mango, passion fruit, and blood orange flavors that’s so good it’s naughty.’”
Remi arched a thinly manicured brow.
“That’s . . . It’s their tagline. Sorry, my small-townness is showing.”
A smile split Remi’s properly painted lips, and a soft laugh escaped.
“Cool. You do know how to smile.” Willow’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head, and she felt her cheeks burn so hot she thought they might actually release steam. “I’m sorry. That just slipped out. Oh my God. I’m sorry. I just—”
“I think I will have that drink, thank you.” Remi reached across her and grabbed a bottle. “Do you share your cupcakes, or are those for your fingers only?”
Willow was stunned into silence.