“Yes, and you pretended to have no idea who I was, so we both weren’t at our best, were we?”
Livvy blushed, remembering the haughty act she’d put on that night. But that wasn’t what they were arguing about. “Well, whoever she was, I have no doubt that wasn’t the first woman to chase you out of the Troc like that, if your little book is anything to go by.”
He grunted in response, so she barreled on. “And you didn’t look too upset when Rhonda kissed you tonight. I had to intervene before you remembered I was meant to be your date.”
“That, that’s not true!” Flynn struggled to get the words out. “She cornered me. I was trapped. I couldn’t exactly cause a scene in front of Will Hays, when the whole point of our being there tonight was to show off how much your steady presence has reformed my wicked, wicked ways. It’s that woman’s fault you and I are stuck in this mess in the first place.” There was something bitter in his voice, and she realized for the first time that maybe Flynn had been as reluctant to agree to this farce as she had.
But then, something in him softened, the fight going out of him. “Look, if you want to accuse me of sleeping with a different woman every week, of being a scoundrel and a cad, fine. I’m not going to lie to you and try to pretend like that little book isn’t exactly what you think it is. But don’t accuse me of being something I’m not. I’ve left behind my share of broken hearts, but I don’t promise anything I’m not willing to give. I don’t jilt women.I don’t lead them on. If you sign up for a ride on the Flynn Banks merry-go-round, you’ll know exactly what you’re getting. Is it my fault if a dame loses her head every once and awhile? Everyone knows who I am, and if some wacky doll gets stars in her eyes, I certainly didn’t put them there.”
Something occurred to her then. “That night, when you jumped in my car, you were trying to get away from Rhonda.” He didn’t answer, but the firm clench of his jaw told her she was right. From the moment they’d met, he had been outrunning Rhonda Powers. And despite this fact, Livvy had been jealous.
It was ridiculous. And hilarious. Because he was right: He was honest about who he was. That was why she was reluctant to give him even an inch when it came to letting him into her life and her heart. She knew what that would mean: heartbreak. Flynn Banks was not the marrying kind, but Livvy was. There was no sense in falling for someone who made it abundantly clear that he could never be what she needed. Maybe hitting that bump in the road and finding that book had been the work of her guardian angel.
“I’m sorry I thought that there might really be something between you and Rhonda,” she murmured. “But I have to get this right. My job—no, my life—depends on us convincing everyone we’re falling in love.”
“Well, it’s you who has the tougher acting assignment,” Flynn retorted.
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve made it quite obvious since the first moment we met that I’m beneath you. That any association with me was unacceptable because it might tarnish your lily-white, stick-up-your-arse reputation. And maybe it will. I’m the son of an aristocrat and went to the best schools that money can buy, but you can’t dye a black sheep white. I don’t have a problem acknowledging thatI’m a womanizer and a booze hound and that my greatest asset is my pretty face, not my intellect. I like stiff drinks and beautiful women. Never pretended otherwise. You wanted me to think you were too good for pirate movies. But you know something? People like pirate movies.”
Livvy felt like a grade A heel. She’d been trying to protect herself, but she’d ended up making Flynn think she disdained him. When her problem was quite the opposite. “I like pirate movies.”
“And books and fencing. I know you do, Livvy.” His voice had moved from accusatory to a gentle vulnerability, a softness she almost couldn’t bear in the face of how rude she’d been.
“I like that you like those things,” Flynn continued. “Once we got past that rocky start, I realized that you might play your cards close to the vest, but you’re every bit as true to yourself as I am. It’s something I admire in you.”
His words took her breath away. Everyone always wanted her to be something she wasn’t. Her father and mother had stifled her, insisting she always be the portrait of propriety. Judy never asked anything of her, but Livvy knew she had to be the mother hen for the both of them. And the studio didn’t want Olivia Blount; they wanted Liv de Lesseps, worldly star with a name they had invented and Flynn Banks’s arm candy. But what did she want? Had she thought of her own wants even once in the month and a half since she’d come to Hollywood?
They pulled up to a stoplight, and she turned to find Flynn studying her. A burst of yearning tugged at her heart, and she leaned ever so slightly closer to him, wondering if he might kiss her again. This time without an audience.
Flynn said, “Livvy, this thing between us might be falser than Joan Davis’s eyelashes.” The reminder was like having a bucketof water pitched over her head. But then he said something that slipped into the corner of her heart, a corner she realized she had earmarked for him. “But you… You’re quite possibly the realest person I’ve ever met.”
Chapter 13
Flynn was shocked to discover how run-down the Garden of Allah Hotel had become. The stories of its opulence and its notorious parties were the stuff of Hollywood legend. But now it was a dingy collection of buildings that had seen better days. The only remnants of its greatness were the algae-filled water features burbling in the shadow of the looming estate.
He followed Livvy’s directions to the small bungalow where she was staying. She moved to open the door of the passenger seat and he stopped her. “I may not be a gentleman, but I always walk a lady to her door.”
She looked ready to protest, but he reached across her and opened her door, before hurrying out of the car and offering his hand once he was at her side. She bit her lip and gripped his fingers.
Something had changed between them in the last few hours. Every touch, every interaction was charged with the promise of something more. What had been fun and games was suddenly the most serious thing in the world. And he didn’t know what to do with that. He was not and had never been a serious person.
As they walked to the front door, Flynn wondered if he should kiss her again. Good God, what was happening to him? He’d never once questioned the wisdom of kissing a woman in his life. Buthe knew he wasn’t the type of man that Livvy deserved. She was vibrant, infuriating, fascinating, and funny too—but above all, she was kind and smart and good. The antithesis of all that he was.
But when he stood next to her on the stoop, her face turned up to him in the flickering beams of her porch light, he found it hard to remember any reason not to kiss her.
“Well, I suppose this is good night,” she huffed, something breathless in her tone.
“Suppose so.” He shrugged. Jesus, he was acting like a fumbling schoolboy. “But Livvy…” She looked uncertain, her eyes flicking back toward the car. He silently cursed his stupid black book. He’d locked it in his car weeks ago to avoid its temptation for the duration of this PR stunt. He’d honestly forgotten about it until it fell into Livvy’s lap. He’d never felt the least bit of shame about that book. Until tonight. Watching Livvy page through it made him feel dirty. Like he had let her down before he’d ever met her. It unsettled him.
He didn’t know what to say, so he placed his hand under her chin and tilted it up to study her face—her open, searching violet eyes, the freckle darker than the rest on her right cheek, the pert little curve of her nose, and the perfect Cupid’s bow of her lips.
He leaned down to kiss them, and the door opened behind them.
“Livvy, you’re home! Oh, er, sorry.”
Livvy practically leaped off the porch in her rush to put distance between them. “Oh, don’t worry, Judy. Mr. Banks was only making sure I made it to the door safely.”
