Page 4 of Lovers at Seaside
Oh no.She’d been so upset over Bert, she’d forgotten she’d sent Grayson an email a few weeks back asking him to return to Wellfleet and make a railing for the house. She wanted a prettier railing, that much was true, but she’d really looked forward to spending time with him to see if what she’d felt for him all these months had been real and whether there might be something more between them. After last night, she might as well kiss those thoughts goodbye.
She made her way down to the media room, searching for clues about last night. The pit of her stomach went hot at the thought of having sex with the gorgeous, confident man who wrote lovely emails—and saw her looking like a mess, heard her rambling, and wiped her tears. What a mess. She was never a mess. Ever. She was organized, on top of her lines, and she rarely took time off from acting, going from one film to the next with just enough time to prepare. Acting was a good distraction from the life she wasn’t living. People in her circles were more interested in what she brought to the table or what being seen with her could do for their careers, making friends and relationships transient at best. But while she had acting and hiding in her whirlwind life down pat, she had no experience with grief. She’d been only a year old when she’d lost her mother. Bert’s unexpected demise had thrown her completely off-balance, and poor Grayson had witnessed it.
She touched her cheek, remembering the feel of his rough thumb as he brushed away her tears. The intimate gesture had taken her by surprise. But it was the memory of the caring look in his eyes that had her frozen in place now, standing just a few feet from the media room. Had he really looked at her like that, or was the alcohol skewing her memory? What was worse than thinking she’d seen a caring look in his eyes, was suddenly remembering wanting desperately to kiss him. What if shehadkissed him but couldn’t remember it? What if she’d tried to do more and he’d had to fight her off? Or worse. What if he didn’t fight her off?
No more tequila. Ever.
Christmas bounded down the stairs and nudged the back of her knee, sending her stumbling into the media room. Her eyes widened at the spotless room. She blinked a few times, wondering if she’d dreamed up the whole night. Maybe Grayson hadn’t even been there. She took in the pristine hardwood floors and leather couches, the clean wooden bar where the nearly empty tequila bottle sat square in the center.Nope.She hadn’t made up that part. She remembered the towels Grayson had used to clean the coffee table and looked for them behind the bar. No dirty towels. She must really be losing her mind.
My suitcase!Her heart slammed against her ribs. She definitely remembered her clothes and candy strewn around the room.Shootshootshoot.She tore upstairs to her bedroom and found her suitcase sitting on the armchair by the windows. She opened it, hoping and praying he hadn’t—Oh no.He’d folded her clothes. She tipped open the hamper, melting a little when she saw two soiled bar towels. But that moment of reveling in his thoughtfulness was shattered when she realized there was only one reason a man would ever go to so much trouble.
She must have slept with him.
She didn’t know what upset her more, the embarrassment of having probably attacked him, or not remembering one single second of it. That thought made her want to crawl back into the tequila bottleandget on the next flight out of town.
How could she ever face him again?
She couldn’t. There was nohowinvolved.
Chastising herself for being so reckless, and for being too drunk to remember what was probably the best sex she’d ever have in her entire life, she showered, dried her hair, and began the process of becoming Parker Collins.
Foundation, blush, eyeliner, lipstick—sigh—fake eyelashes. She hated fake eyelashes. So what if hers were too blond? Couldn’t she just go back to being Polly Collins for a little while? Her agent had chosen Parker as her Hollywood name. It wasn’t like she tried to hide her true identity, but the world knew her as Parker Collins, and she had never publicly talked about being Polly. Polly had become her reference to living anormallife. Not that her life had been normal before. But being Polly meant living life as a non-celebrity. How many times had she told Bert she wanted to go back to being Polly? When she was sick of the paparazzi, or had cramps, or was too exhausted to care if she went to the grocery store looking good enough for anyone other than herself.
Bert’s voice sailed into her mind.The world adores Parker Collins, and that makes it possible for you to give back to the children of the world. Polly’s the strength and courage that drives you, but she has the power to undermine Parker in the eyes of your fans. Polly is yours forever, but she can never be theirs.
Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she put on the stupid eyelashes and grabbed her keys. Time to buck up and visit Bert’s jerky brother.
GRAYSON WALKED ALONG Parker’s side yard carrying the new designs for her railing he’d drawn up late last night, trying to get his thoughts together before knocking on her door. He’d told himself he needed to catch up with the beautiful, leggy blonde to try to nail down the final design for the railing. But while that might be true, it wasn’t what had kept him up all night wishing he could reverse time and rewrite the last ten months. If he could, he would darn well make sure he knew about Bert well before he passed away, and that she had no family, and a great dog, and all the other personal things she’d probably kept hidden. And he would have been with her immediately after she’d lost Bert so she didn’t have to deal with that loss alone.
She’d put up a tough front last night, even with the tears she’d shed. Grayson had suffered grief, and he knew how it could knock a person to their knees. She’d fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder while they were talking, or rather, while she mumbled and he tried to follow along. Little of what she’d said made sense, but then again, not much of what he’d felt since then had made sense either. He tried to convince himself it wasn’t his place to try to be there for her, especially knowing he might have misinterpreted their dealings for nearly a year. Besides, shouldn’t she have an entourage of people caring for her? But she didn’t, and Grayson had never been good at being dissuaded from something he wanted. And regardless of whether it made him a fool or not, he wanted to be there for Parker.
Christmas bounded around the corner of the house, favoring his right paw, andwoofedwith delight at the sight of Grayson.
Grayson knelt to love him up. “Hey there, buddy.”
The dog licked his cheek. Then the big lug buried his snout in Grayson’s crotch.
“Nice to see you again, too.” Grayson redirected the dog’s nose. “Where’s your mama?”
Christmas plopped down on his butt by Grayson’s feet, giving him a chance to inspect the dog’s giant paw. He picked a piece of what looked like taffy from between the pads, and the dog licked his cheek again.
“Christmas!”
At the sound of Parker’s voice, Grayson and Christmas looked toward the front yard. Parker came around the corner of the house and stopped cold at the sight of Grayson. He preferred the dog’s eager reaction.
Christmas, obviously used to seeing Parker looking like a million sexy bucks,woofedand sprinted over to her. Grayson wasn’t quite as quick to collect himself. He rose to his feet, mouth dry, trying not to gawk as he took in her high heels and long, tanned legs, which disappeared beneath a pair of expensive-looking navy shorts. She wore a demure white blouse, and her long blond hair lay sexily over one shoulder. The whole ensemble was topped off with a floppy white sun hat and enormous sunglasses.
“Hi,” he said, having trouble reconciling this primly put together actress with the dressed-down, grieving woman he’d been with last night.
She shifted her large designer bag to the crook of her arm and nervously petted Christmas. “I…I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I probably should have called.”I was worried about you.“I thought we could take a few minutes to go over the design ideas for the railing.”
Her eyes darted nervously to the water, the house, the dog, everywhere but at him. “I…I can’t. I have to…um…go into Brewster.” She turned and hurried toward the front of the house.
Grayson fell into step behind her, admiring the view of her perfect rear end and mulling over the brush-off she was clearly giving him. Assuming she was pissed at last night’s unannounced intrusion, he said, “I’m sorry about barging in last night.”
“I’msorry about last night,” she said with her back to him as she let Christmas in the house.
