London continued to chew—pulverizing the meat to put off answering. It wasn’t like he could blurt out,She was the love of my life.That seemed so cliché—and ridiculous, considering they’d been seventeen years old. No one finds their perfect match when they are seventeen. They find crushes and first loves and sweethearts. Only, none of those words described what he’d felt—what a part of him still felt—for Maia. “We attended to the same highschool.”
“Aaaaand …?”
“And we went to a few dances.” Every dance his senior year excepthomecoming.
“Aaaaand …?”
“And we didn’t part on the best of terms, and then we ran into each other at the auction. End ofstory.”
Jay swirled his water around in the glass. He blew out a heavy breath. “I’m going to be straight withyou.”
“You alwaysare.”
“This doesn’t look like an ending.” He pointed to the picture. “It looks an awful lot like thebeginning.”
London let his gaze drop to Maia’s face. He could just as easily close his eyes and mentally trace her cheeks, her lips, even her ears, because she’d been imprinted on his heart. He couldn’t escape her, and she, from the looks of things, still burned a candle for him. If there was even a chance that he could hold Maia once more, he had to go for it. “Book me a flight to LA and a hotel near thevenue.”
Jay grinned like the cat who’d caught thecanary.
“But not a word to the press. They’ll find out I’m there soonenough.”
“Fine. Fine. Whatever youwant.”
What London wanted was to go back in time fifteen minutes before he’d seen that picture, before his heart could latch onto hope, before he was about to run pell-mell after one of the most-sought-after women in the world and probably make a complete fool ofhimself.
But if there was a chance, even a slim one, that Maia could forgive him, he had to takeit.
Chapter Seven
London buttonedhis tux as he stepped from the limo. He eyed the red carpet warily, not sure if he was supposed to duck to the right with a group of onlookers or make his way into the El CapitanTheatre.
The whole street was blocked off to traffic. A long line of limousines drove on the wrong side of the road, and the red velvet ropes reached to the dotted yellow line to accommodate the press of fans andphotographers.
And he thought game-day traffic was cray-cray.
An attendant in a red-and-gold jacket cleared histhroat.
London glanced at him and realized he was blocking the man from shutting the car door so the driver could keep the line moving. He smiled as cameras flashed and made his way to the old-fashioned ticket booth. Before he could disappear inside and get his bearings, a small woman wearing a nondescript black dress rushed to hisside.
“Mr. Wilder. We’re so pleased you could make it. I’m April, Maia’s personal assistant. If you could followme.”
She seemed so sure of herself that London followed her without question. Even though he had a hundred questions. So this was the personal assistant behind the invitation … She was a tiny little thing, able to squeeze through gaps in the crowd that London had to shoulder his waythrough.
When they stopped, he was back outside, near the front of theline.
April flipped on him. “Your timing is incredible. Now, when that car—” She pointed to the limo second to the front. “—stops, you’ll hold out your hand to help Maia from the vehicle. Then, offer her your arm and escort her to the photo booth to the right. I’ll meet you twothere.”
London didn’t have time to fully process what she’d asked him to do, nor did he have the chance to ask questions, because April disappeared faster than a grasshopper in a cornfield. Man, that woman wasslick!
The cars moved forward and his moment had arrived. He stepped out of the group and made his way to the car. His heart pounded five times for every footstep, drowning out the screamingfans.
The attendant opened the door and London flung his hand in front of the opening, praying he hadn’t already messed up and picked the wrong car. He was standing off to the side, purposefully staying out of her way as half her dress exited before shedid.
Maia’s delicate fingers landed in his, and all the buzzing and churning and pounding inside of him calmed like lake water in the early morningsun.
She set both feet on the ground and gracefully emerged, bringing to mind a bird about to take flight. Her hand tightened in his as the noise level tripled and hundreds of cameras momentarily blindedthem.
Maia stepped forward and lifted her hand to wave. “What are you doing here?” she asked without dropping hersmile.
