Page 26 of A Star is Scorned

He tilted his head and looked at her in confusion. “Why? George has an easy enough escape route for us.”

“Yes, but…” She looked leerily up at George Salisbury.

She couldn’t drop the ruse that she and Flynn were an item in front of some random stranger.

She needed an excuse. “The Evets publicity department said the more photos people take of me when I’m out on the town, the better.

That it’s good for my career.” She gave Flynn a pointed look, trying to get him to understand what she really meant.

Livvy could hardly believe what she was saying.

But tonight had been so strange. Her growing feelings for Flynn unsettled her.

She needed a firm reminder that this was all for show.

What better than a run-in with a photo bug?

Flynn looked back at her, clearly mystified at her sudden desire for publicity, and she stared even harder at him, raising her eyebrows.

George Salisbury looked confused. But then something clicked.

“Oh. Ohhhh. Yes, absolutely. We should get you that camera time. That’s a brilliant idea.

Wish I’d thought of it myself.” He winked at her, and she resented her stomach for the butterflies it generated in response.

He stood and proffered his arm, which she took, and they started for the door.

“Thanks for a wonderful meal, Mr. Salisbury. I hope to be back soon,” she called over her shoulder at the restaurant’s owner, who still looked perplexed at what had just transpired. She and Flynn stepped out the heavy carved door of the restaurant, only to be temporarily blinded by a flashbulb.

“Banks, is this your new flame? What about poor Rhonda? Did you really jilt the dame at the altar?”

Livvy blinked furiously, trying to clear the stars from her eyes that hovered from the aftereffects of the flash. Maybe this had been a mistake. She’d wanted to play the game, to give Harry what he thought Flynn needed. Particularly after they’d flown the coop from the fundraiser.

Flynn responded dryly, “Rubbish. Utterly and completely. Me near an altar? It would spontaneously combust.” Livvy gently stepped on his foot, reminding him that he was supposed to be selling the notion that he was a reformed man, currently falling in love with her.

She covered Flynn’s yelp with a hollow laugh that she was certain even the photographer could tell was fake. But Flynn got the message.

“Well, it would have in the past,” he amended.

“But I never made Rhonda Powers any promises. How could I when my new costar is everything I could have ever dreamed of?” He nudged Livvy forward a bit, as if he were presenting her to the cameraman.

“This is Liv de Lesseps. My new partner, on-screen and off. The girl I never knew I’d been waiting for.

Mark my words, she’s going to be a great star. ”

Livvy’s heart beat faster at Flynn’s description of her as the girl he’d been waiting for.

Once, such a thing had been her greatest fantasy.

She watched as the reporter scribbled her name in his pad.

This was her life now. How very odd. To have a complete stranger take your picture and write your name down in his notes.

But it wouldn’t do to stand gaping like a codfish, when it had been her idea to go out the front and put on a show.

She needed to do something to sell this quickly.

She leaned over and hissed in Flynn’s ear, “Kiss me.”

His eyes widened and he turned his head to meet her gaze. Surprise and lust mingled in his sparkling blue eyes. “Are you sure?” he whispered.

She didn’t answer him, but simply leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to his.

“Hoo boy, it’s my lucky night,” the photographer crowed.

The white light of the flash was hot on her face, but not nearly so hot as the rush of want that traveled from where their lips met to the apex of her legs.

She clenched her thighs together and stood on her tiptoes, increasing the pressure of her mouth upon his.

He followed her lead and deepened the kiss, his tongue licking at the seam of her lips. She opened for him and the place between her legs pulsed with desire as he explored her mouth, flicking at her teeth and tangling with her tongue. It was playful and dangerous and oh so sexy. Just like Flynn.

This was meant to be for show. To remind her this was all make believe.

But right now she was having trouble remembering that—because in all her life, she’d never felt anything so real, so alive as this kiss.

It was a zap of electricity to her system, waking her up when she hadn’t even realized she’d been asleep.

Flynn Banks was rearranging every molecule in her body with a mere kiss.

It was too much. She broke away from him, dizzy with desire and scarcely able to see straight.

“Thanks for the picture,” the reporter cooed.

Flynn didn’t answer, simply grabbed her hand and pulled her off in the direction of the valet, where José was waiting with their car. Livvy was in a daze as Flynn opened the door and ushered her into the bench seat. They said nothing as he pulled out onto Western Avenue and headed north.

“I’m at the Garden of Allah bungalows,” she murmured eventually.

He nodded and wound his way through the middle of the city toward Hollywood, where her residence lay nestled at the foot of the hills.

The silence resumed as she replayed the events of the evening in her mind.

The way Flynn had looked at her while she ate her meal, like he was anticipating her reaction to every bite.

His delight at sharing the restaurant with her.

The way his eyes had flared with something she couldn’t even identify when she’d told him to kiss her.

The press of his lips against hers. The sweep of his tongue as he plundered her mouth like she was the pirate’s treasure in one of his films.

His car hit a bump, jostling them in their seats and sending his glove box flying open.

A small black book fell out of the compartment and slid into her lap.

She picked it up, flipping through its pages, a sickening sensation overtaking her as she realized what it was: Flynn’s little black book.

She paged through it, scrutinizing the various stars, hearts, and strike-throughs he’d scribbled in, realizing that it was some sort of code for the women listed inside the book.

Suddenly, he reached over with one hand and clapped the book shut. “I’m sorry. It fell out when we hit the curb,” she said.

“A girl like you has no business examining a book like that.” She couldn’t tell if he was complimenting or insulting her. Did he think her too delicate to see such a thing? He gently patted the top of her hand, still holding the book. “Put it back where you found it.”

She did as she was told while white-hot flames of shame licked at her.

She had never felt so foolish. Minutes ago, she’d been reliving their kiss, and now he was treating her like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Their kiss had been no different from the hundreds she’d watched at the movies.

That was why Flynn made every woman over fourteen and under one hundred weak at the knees.

Because he was a fantasy, good at making love for show.

She had to remember that. She thought of Rhonda and the way the woman had wound herself around Flynn.

“Why did you jilt Rhonda Powers?” She blurted it out before she even realized what she was doing.

Oh God, why had she asked him that? Wasn’t it bad enough that she’d pawed through his book of assignations?

Now, she had to go interrogate him about Rhonda.

And what did Rhonda matter? She and Flynn were playing a game, two roles for the benefit of Flynn’s reputation and the success of Evets’s Studios.

When they were done making their picture, this whole farce would be over with and he could do whatever he liked.

His face was stony as he kept his eyes on the road. “You shouldn’t pay any mind to the questions reporters ask us.” There was no mirth in his response. The roof of the car was still down, and yet the temperature seemed to have dropped ten degrees.

“I don’t. But you seemed pretty cozy with her at the fundraiser before I got there. And the papers said—”

“Ah, so you not only watch Flynn Banks movies, but also read the gossip columns.” His tone could have frozen a tray of ice. She’d really put her foot in it now.

“Connie in wardrobe showed me,” she admitted. “She saw us leaving the lot holding hands… You know, the first little publicity stunt we did? She thought she should warn me.”

He ran a hand down his face. “Damn meddling woman.” He turned his head to look at Livvy, briefly taking his eyes from the road. “That story isn’t true. Not a word of it.”

“How should I know? The first night I met you, you were trying to escape from some woman who wanted to cause you bodily harm.”

“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.”