He wore his public disguise (ball cap and sunglasses), because yes, she’d seen all the candid photos and read every salacious article about him in the past three months. She’d know that perfect square jaw anywhere.
Was he staring at her? Hard to tell with the sunglasses, but he was definitely looking in her direction. She glanced behind her. He could be staring at anyone really, not necessarily the woman who’d cut him down to size over the phone.
“Chloe?” Sean asked. “You there?”
Liam began walking her way!
“Gotta go!” she squeaked.
She ducked out of view, seeking a place to hide. The clothing rounder. She dove inside, hangers clattering. One of them hit the ground at her feet. It wasn’t until she was safely, if somewhat precariously, squatting on the pavement that it hit her—Liam would have no reason to recognize her. No reason at all!
Oh well. Might as well wait until he passed. What was he doinghere so early anyway? The actors weren’t scheduled to arrive for the prep work until next week. Then the movie started filming the week after. At that point she’d be seeing him almost daily.
The garment shielding her face seemed to have feathers attached. Very tickly feathers. Since her hands were on the ground, keeping her balanced, she blew the feathers away. One of them returned with a vengeance, a heat-seeking missile heading straight for her nostril.
She sneezed. Then sneezed again.
A pair of Birkenstock flip-flops, visible through the clothing, appeared on the ground at her side. “Hello, Chloe.”
Crap.She closed her eyes, pretending for one delusional moment she could disappear. But another sneeze was building up. Darn those feathers! She pressed her lips together. Held her breath.
“Need some help in there?”
“Aaa-choo!”
“Bless you.”
She peeked out from the clothes, following the line of his muscular legs past his low-slung trunks and fitted white tee to the man she’d thought she wouldn’t have to face for at least a week, if not two.
“Uh, hi. Hi there. You’re Liam. I was just...” She groped frantically along the ground and grasped a stray hanger for dear life. “I, uh, dropped something... just picking it up.” Gathering herself, she oh so casually slipped from the clothing rack and came to her full five-foot-three-inch height. He was taller than she realized—must be those statuesque actresses he always had on his arm.
“Got it!” She held up the rescued item. “Accidently dropped my new—”
“String bikini?”
Her gaze flew to the article of clothing. Yep. A highlighter-yellow thong—practically a ribbon really—dangled from the hanger. There was no top.
“Will you be wearing that on set then?”
She wouldn’t be wearing it anywhere! “On second thought”—she shoved the bathing suit back onto the rack—“not really my color.”
She hoisted her purse onto her shoulder, lifted her chin, and tried to look cool and breezy. It was hard to tell what he was thinking behind those sunglasses, but his posture and smug little grin screamed arrogance. “I thought— What are you doing in town already?”
“I like to show up early. Get the lay of the land.”
She didn’t know what that meant. But they’d gotten off on the wrong foot—twice now. And she’d decided weeks ago that if she had any hope of rescuing her film, it began and ended with him. Maybe he could bring Ledger to life if he just knew him the way she did. And the only way to make that happen was to get on the same page—so to speak.
Time to swallow her pride. “Listen, I’m actually glad I ran into you.”
A skeptical crease appeared over the rim of his glasses.
Right. Ruffled feathers. “I wanted to apologize for my hasty reaction when Simone called a few months ago.” Her contrite (and distorted) face peered back at her in the reflection of his sunglasses. When he didn’t respond she added, “So I’m sorry if I, uh, hurt your feelings or anything.”
He tilted his head, ushering in an uncomfortable silence that filled the space between them. It seemed to swell like a wave under the sea, growing and growing and...
“It’s just that I saw you inJiltedand of course I’ve come across articles about you in the, uh, tabloids and, well, I know they’re not called gossip rags for nothing, but I mean, you know, where there’s smoke there’s fire.” Her nervous laugh seemed to hang in the air between them, then plummet with a thunk at their feet.
“So it’s my lifestyle you disapprove of.”
