She laced her fingers around his neck and tugged, changing the tempo to slow and sultry. Beau caught on quickly, his hands kneading her back. Melting into the kiss was like being thrown into the swimming pool all over again. Only this time, Beau was right there with her, and they were tumbling together.
She tried not to look down, to see the inevitable crash where Beau drove off to his mansion, and she returned to the studio. He would star inEgypt’s Goldand move on to the next project, and she would do what she did every day—make it through.
Where was this supposed to take them? She gasped for air, the interior of the car throbbing with expectations that wouldn’t, couldn’t be fulfilled.
“I have to go.” She opened the door and almost fell out. Righting herself, she gathered her purse and shopping bag.
“When can I see you again?” Beau asked.
She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “I-I’m sorry.”
“Wait—Cindy, wait.”
She darted across the lane and into the mall and stood far enough away from the glass doors that Beau couldn’t see her. She could see him, though. Running was the coward’s way out, and she shouldn’t have left him like that. But if she hadn’t torn herself away right then, she never would.
Beau dragged his hands through his hair and paced in front of his car. A few minutes later, he drove away, and she sagged against the clothes rack.
It’s better this way.
It wouldn’t have worked out.
He’s better off without my family drama.
I’m better off without his …
His …
She couldn’t come up with a single thing about Beau that she’d be better off without.
She didn’t remember driving home and yet there she was, walking in through the back door, where she was greeted by Drusilla and Patricia.
“Did you get them?” Drusilla asked. Cindy didn’t even see her. She held up the pink bag.
Drusilla pulled out the panties. “These are red. You were supposed to get black. Beau will be in on Monday, and I wantedeverythingto match.”
“Beau prefers the red,” Cindy answered, staring into space.
Drusilla’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”
Cindy sighed, bringing her attention into the house and away from the feel of Beau’s scruff on her neck. Her hands covered her throat in a panic. Didn’t scruff leave marks? She needed a mirror. That thought took her right back to the furniture showroom and Beau’s soft kiss. Their first kiss. Pressing her nails into the back of her neck, Cindy focused on her stepsister. “Hotcelebs.com.”
Drusilla did that hand flapping and squealing thing thirteen-year-old girls do when they see a cute guy. “I am so wearing these for Beau.” She ran up to her room, leaving pink tissue and tags in her wake.
Patricia folded her arms. “You were gone quite a long time.”
“I had a hard time locating the right pair.” Cindy already hated herself for leaving Beau the way she did. She should have at least explained why it wouldn’t work out between them. But how could she explain why two people who could connect like they did weren’t meant to be together? It wasn’t possible.
“You’re hiding something.”
“I ate a banana smoothie at the mall.”
Patricia tsked her tongue. “You’re turning thirty in four days—you need to watch what you eat. You can’t afford to eat carbs.”
“Yes, Stepmother.”
Cindy brushed past her, headed to the kitchen, where she was sure there were several blenders caked with field greens and lemon chunks. It wasn’t until she had filled the sink that she realized Patricia had mentioned her birthday.
Her dad used to go all out. He’d buy her a special cake, find the one perfect gift, and spend the day with her. Last year, she’d spent the day cleaning out the prop room. Just like everything else that had to do with her father, Patricia was determined to put Cindy aside. So why even mention her birthday at all? Shrugging, she chalked it up to a reminder that at thirty, she would no longer be a spring chicken.
