Page 24 of A Star is Scorned

Flynn revved the engine and Livvy screamed, laughing as he pushed his foot to the gas and they peeled away from the intersection.

Her hair was streaming behind her, a snarl of curls in the wind, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t care.

That realization itself was thrilling—even more than the purr of the engine or the rush of adrenaline she felt as Flynn darted in and out of lanes and around slower cars.

“Where are you taking me?” she called over the roar of wind that whipped past them as he drove down neon-streaked streets, past blinking lights.

“Do you like Mexican food?” he asked, his voice similarly raised.

“I’ve never had it.”

He turned, his jaw hanging open in an exaggerated gape. “You what?”

“My parents didn’t like spicy food. And at any rate, we hardly ever ate out.”

He made a sharp left turn, and she slid toward him on the bench seat, the edge of her thigh colliding with his much firmer, more solid leg. She liked the feel of him pressed against her far too much. The embers of her girlhood crush were too easy to fan back to a raging fire.

Just as she was about to scooch back to her side of the car, he pointed ahead.

“See that sign in the distance? That’s the El Cholo Café.

” She squinted and could just make out the hot-pink neon sign that burned the name of the restaurant into the night sky.

“I promise you, it’ll be the best meal you’ll ever eat. ”

“You have an exaggerated opinion of everything, don’t you?”

He turned and gave her a gleaming movie-star smile. “Only of myself. But I have a feeling you might just cure me of that.”

The confession stole her breath away. He was teasing, right? This was all for fun, for show, to get him in good with the Production Code Administration and the Legion of Decency. A task she hoped they’d accomplished tonight.

She had been too impudent with that Devlin man, but she didn’t like the way he had looked at her.

She liked the way he’d spoken to Flynn even less.

Was Flynn a playboy who lived life too hard?

Probably, yes. But at least he didn’t pretend to be something he wasn’t.

That was rarely the case when it came to men like Devlin—moral arbiters with a sense of rectitude so stiff they could choke on it.

She’d be lying if she said Flynn’s reputation didn’t make her slightly afraid of him, but it was also part of one thing she admired about him—he was true to himself.

And how many people in this world could say that?

Except there was one thing that was false: this sham of a relationship and the pretense they had to maintain at Harry’s orders.

She glanced at Flynn, and her stomach twisted at the outline of Rhonda Powers’s lipstick still on his face.

When she’d arrived at the Roosevelt, he and Rhonda had looked pretty cozy.

He’d even smiled for a picture with her.

He and Livvy were supposed to be a team, and if Flynn messed up her job at Evets’s Studios by running back to Rhonda, she and Judy would have no other options in Hollywood.

What was he thinking, letting Rhonda kiss him?

Was it because Flynn still had feelings for Rhonda?

Ones Harry had forbidden him from pursuing for some reason?

Before she could spiral any further, Flynn pulled into the parking lot of the El Cholo Café and tossed his keys to the valet, who said, “Senor Banks, good to see you again. It has been too long.”

“José, even a week without El Cholo is too long. But I’m making another picture. You know the studio, they keep me running ragged.”

“Sí, sí,” the valet replied, opening the passenger door for Livvy. “And who is this lovely senorita?”

“My new costar, Liv de Lesseps.”

The fake name still sounded odd to her ears.

Liv de Lesseps was something the studio had created, and she couldn’t make the glamorous image that name projected jive with the practical, studious girl she’d always prided herself on being.

Back when she’d intended to become an author, she’d planned to write under her own name.

José extended his hand to help her out of the car, and she took it. “I’m Olivia Blount.”

“Miss Blount, it is a pleasure to welcome you to El Cholo.” José made a show of sweeping into a bow and pressing a chaste kiss to the top of her hand.

“Now, don’t you steal my girl,” Flynn joked.

José looked up at Livvy and grinned. “I think we should let the lady decide.”

Livvy bit her lip, pretending to debate the issue. But butterflies were taking wing inside her at the sound of Flynn Banks calling her his girl. “Hmm, I’m not sure.”

Flynn laughed.

“Can I try the food first?” Livvy went on.

“Absolutely not,” Flynn replied.

She pretended to pout. “Why not?”

“Because no one would ever choose me after tasting an El Cholo enchilada.”

José shrugged and said, “He is right, Miss Blount.”

“But don’t take my word for it.” Flynn held out his arm for her and she gripped his bicep, enjoying the taut strength of his muscle beneath his impeccably tailored suit. “C’mon, Livvy, I’m starving.”

He led her up the terra-cotta steps into the cozy bungalow that had been transformed into a restaurant.

El Cholo Café was a feast for the senses.

Delectable spices and bubbling cheese greeted her nose, making her stomach growl.

The bungalow was decorated with colorful wall hangings that welcomed its guests in to sit at high-back wooden booths.

“Banks!” proclaimed the man behind the cash register.

Flynn clapped his hand to the fellow’s and gave him a hearty handshake. “George, it’s good to see you. May I introduce you to Liv de Lesseps? Hollywood’s newest and soon-to-be brightest star.”

She blushed at Flynn’s praise and extended her own hand to greet the tall, dark-haired, handsome man working the counter.

“Livvy, this here is George Salisbury. He owns the restaurant with his wife, Aurelia.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she replied.

“George, she’s never had Mexican food before.”

The restaurant owner’s eyes bulged. “I’ll tell Joe to give you the works then. Banks, you haven’t been back since we changed the menu. Joe’s got us selling combination plates now. Rice and beans with your enchilada.”

Flynn appeared absolutely ravenous at the news that there was something new on the menu. He looked like something out of a cartoon. Livvy tried to hold back her laughter, but Flynn heard her.

“What’s so funny?”

“You. You’re practically drooling.”

“Food is a serious business,” he retorted, before leaning over and whispering in her ear. “Besides, what makes you think it’s merely the food that’s got me all worked up?”

The words made something warm and wet pool between her thighs. He couldn’t mean her? No, that was…indecent. Besides, she was not the kind of girl that Flynn Banks would go for—not outside this charade they were committed to. That’s all the words were: part of the game they played.

George gestured to a waiter lingering behind them. “Pedro, put them in Mr. Banks’s favorite booth.”

As Flynn led her into the room behind the register, Livvy clung to him tightly, horrified to discover that his whisperings had turned her knees to jelly.

But he didn’t seem to care. He held her hand, steady and solid in his own, and brought her to a cozy wooden booth in the side room.

He extended his arm, helping her slide onto the bench as she swept the fuller skirts of her chiffon gown beneath her.

Flynn crossed to the other side of the table and took his seat as their waiter laid a cloth napkin on Livvy’s lap. “Now, Pedro, this isn’t a fine dining establishment, let the lady have the authentic El Cholo experience.”

Pedro chuckled and nodded. He held out menus for both of them but Flynn waved him away. “Dos combination plates, the cheese enchilada,” he ordered. “And I’ll have a beer. Do you want a drink?”

Livvy shook her head. “No, water is fine, thank you.”

When Pedro walked away, she scanned the room, soaking in all the fine details, from the beautifully painted tile pattern that wound its way around the top of the room to the family photos framed and hung on the wall.

A fire crackled in a hearth that split the room in two, and she relaxed, letting the warmth seep into her bones.

She turned back to Flynn and was surprised to see him grinning at her. “What are you smiling at?”

“You. Watching you take it all in. You’re beautiful when you’re curious.”

She blushed. “I’ve never seen any place like it. It’s so…homey.”

“That’s what I love about it too. None of that fake glamour or attempts to impress. Just good people making good food. There’s not a lot of folks who understand how special that is.”

Livvy rolled her eyes. “I’m sure that’s what you tell all the girls.”

Flynn smirked, his left eyebrow arching in a fashion that reminded her of his role in The Fighting Swan. “I don’t bring other girls here. The type of girls I usually go for want champagne and a night on the town. You’re different, Livvy.”

“You mean provincial.” She was well read and her father had been well traveled. Flynn Banks was the son of an aristocrat. They did not inhabit the same universe.

“No one could ever describe you as provincial. I saw how you soaked in the Bach and the Stravinsky tonight. Everyone else was pretending to enjoy it because they think it makes them look smart. Hollywood’s full of philistines pretending to be dilettantes.

But you’re the real deal. You actually appreciate the symphony.

I can tell by the way every note hits a different part of your body or the slight smile that ghosts across your face when the strings get particularly melodic.

You even try to hide your flinch when they hit notes that don’t belong. You can’t fake that.”