Page 46 of A Star is Scorned
Livvy felt every set of eyes in the room that wasn’t already looking in their direction turn to them. She’d intended to make a brief appearance at the party, smile for some photos, and go home to wait for Judy. But something told her the night had just taken a turn.
“Um…” She removed the tiny faux dagger from the belt around her waist and brandished it limply.
But before she could blink, Joan Davis wrested a rapier from a display on the wall and tossed it at Livvy. “Catch!”
Livvy lifted her arm just in time to grip the fine brass handle of the sword. Its firm, cool presence in her hand filled her with a renewed courage. She grinned, winked at Joan, and mirrored Flynn’s stance. “Might I remind you, Hook, that it is Pan who always wins the battle?”
“Not this time.” Something wicked flashed in Flynn’s eyes as he drew out a rapier hanging from the belt at his side. She attacked, but he parried with his hook, sliding it down the length of the metal blade as it shrieked at the contact.
The other guests parted, making a wide circle around Flynn and Livvy so they could watch. But Livvy only had eyes for Flynn, his ridiculously oversized hat feather taunting her. With one swift movement, she swirled her rapier out of the curve of Flynn’s hook and raised it in a circular motion, slicing off the tip of the obnoxiously large feather. She zigzagged back to knock his hat all the way off with the point of her blade.
The party guests broke into a combination of gasps and applause.
“You do like removing my wardrobe with your sword,” Flynn teased. She blushed, realizing that the tittering jocularity spreading through the room had just been amplified by his comment. She needed to answer him.
“Hush! You’ve managed to convince the press that I’ve reformed you. You don’t want them getting the wrong idea, do you?”
The crowd roared with laughter, and she breathed a little easier. She’d intended it as a warning to Flynn, a reminder thatthey were supposed to appear chastely in love. He should avoid referencing scandalous activities that hadn’t even occurred between them.And never will,she thought a bit mournfully. But the guests were enjoying this dance between them. Perhaps she should give them the show they so clearly wanted.
Returning to the basics of her fencing training, she furiously attacked, backing Flynn up until he was nearly against the wall of the living room. Then she produced the tiny dagger she’d slipped back into the holster of her belt and threw it at him, pinning his red velvet coat to the wall.
“I did try to warn you that Peter Pan always wins,” she crowed, enjoying the admiring murmurs that were traveling around the room.
He attempted to tug the handle of the blade out with his hook to no avail, then raised his hands in surrender. “All right, all right.”
But she continued to advance on him, extending the point of her blade until it notched itself in the dimple in his chin.
He gulped. “B-bad form,” he choked out. She smiled. Those were Hook’s exact final words in J. M. Barrie’s novel. It wasn’t something she’d expected him to know. But then she remembered the night they’d first met. He’d said thatTreasure Islandwas his favorite novel. It wasn’t much of a stretch to imagine he had a fondness forPeter Pantoo.
She gently moved the tip of the blade up, caressing his cheek with it. A little zip of electricity ran down her spine at how unexpectedly intimate the gesture was. He raised his eyebrows, but he still looked unsettled. “Livvy…remember, it’s the crocodile, not Peter Pan, who kills Hook.”
The room laughed at that, but he looked more nervous than she’d ever seen him, and she wanted to relish this moment. She’d regained the upper hand, if only for this brief interlude, and she wanted to bask in it.
“Oh, I know, but there aren’t any crocodiles to be had in Malibu.” She increased her pressure on the blade ever so slightly, watching as it bit gently into his cheek, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to change the color of his complexion. “Besides, I like you better as Flynn Banks.” She slid her blade under the center part of his wig and pulled it off his head, flinging it into the crowd. Someone whooped with excitement as they reached up and caught it. “Piracy looks better on you as a blond.”
His jaw dropped at her words, and she threw her blade at his feet. She put her hands on her hips and struck the pose that hundreds of actors playing Peter Pan on stages around the world had assumed.
But the false bravado that had overtaken her while she was dueling Flynn was quickly dissipating. She resisted the urge to clock the number of extremely famous faces in the crowd who were very likely staring at her. She was entirely uncertain what to do now.
But Joan and Arlene, who had apparently abandoned her duties at the front door, wrapped their arms around her. “Congratulations!” Arlene cooed, while Joan pulled her toward the kitchen, adding, “Let’s get you a drink.”
Chapter 16
As Joan and Arlene carted Livvy off to the next room telling her God knows what, Flynn stared after her. He knew better than to challenge Livvy with a sword. But when she’d entered the party dressed as Peter Pan, the green suede of her costume hugging the pert little curve of her butt, he hadn’t been able to resist putting on a show. Besides, wasn’t that what he was supposed to be doing? Showing the world how impressive Livvy is? Flynn was beginning to realize it wasn’t just Livvy’s unstained reputation that had convinced Harry to entrap her into this publicity stunt. No, Harry had seen something extraordinary in this bookish beauty. Something that made her a more believable match for Flynn than he’d ever thought she could be. Flynn was just doing his job to keep up the ruse by helping people see that.
He was still gaping after that irresistible, retreating backside when Dash approached and clapped him on the shoulder. “That is one hell of a woman.”
“Don’t I know it,” muttered Flynn. He realized that he was still pinned to the wall with the point of her dagger. The rest of the crowd, sensing the show was over, had turned away to chat with each other. Flynn picked up snatches of their murmurs, some marveling at Livvy’s skill, others calling it unladylike. Bugger,had he cocked this up? He’d gotten carried away by the delightful coincidence of their costumes. And he’d never been able to resist making a bit of a scene.
The band resumed playing. He continued to tug at the dagger to no avail, barely able to twist his trapped arm to wrap his fingers around it.
Dash gave him a look.
“What?”
“Nothing, nothing.”
Flynn continued to wrestle with the stupid dagger until Dash drawled, “Might help if you lost the hook.”
