Page 22 of Take 2

Chapter Nineteen

W hat would I do if everything else was the same, but it wasn’t Preston?

I grab my phone and figure out a plan. Then I open my messages to text him, but— Seriously? I knock on the connecting door as if the door has wronged me.

He opens it and says, “Are you really still angry at me for your dip in the water?”

“No!” I shove my phone screen in his face. “When did you change your name in here?”

His laughter does nothing to quell my aggravation. “I didn’t do that. But I like it.”

The addition of ‘I Wish I Was’ to the beginning of ‘Fucking Preston Greene’ can only have been done by him. “Obviously, you did!”

“I didn’t. Maybe you did it last night.”

“I … No. No, I wouldn’t have done that.”

“Well, it was definitely a thought you had last night.” He fails miserably at containing a smile.

I let out a long breath. “Okay, I’m not drinking that much ever again. What I was going to tell you was, be ready at five. We’re going out.” Which was meant to be nice but now comes out like a threat.

His eyes brighten. “All right.”

“And I’m fixing this.” I wave my phone.

“Whatever you say.”

“Also, after watching a day of filming, I decided I will take you up on the offer to read the screenplay.”

He smiles and turns into his room. Moments later, he returns with a binder-clipped ream of paper and drops it into my hands.

“Thank you. And for retrieving my writing gloves.” Again: words are nice, delivery is harsh.

“You’re welcome.”

I close the door between us and set my self-assigned guilt homework on the dresser before going in for a shower.

“How much of this was you feeling guilty?” Preston asks before taking a sip of wine.

“Sixty percent.”

Right on the port, our table overlooks yachts and sailboats with buildings up the hillside beyond it. This restaurant would probably be great for brunch, hence the early closing time, but I’m happy to be as close to the sea as possible at any time of day. Maybe that’s my inner Midwesterner.

“So only forty percent because you wanted to?”

“No, that’s probably thirty percent. Ten is because I wanted to come here. Oh, does that count toward wanting to? I assumed you meant because I wanted to do this with you.”

“It was, but you could have been nice and rolled them together.”

“And boost your ego? I’d never.” I flash a wide smile.

“Are you really still willing to be sassy so close to water?”

“I tend to repeat my mistakes.”

He dips his chin. “Well, I tend to learn from them. Throwing her into water equals pissed is filed for future reference.”

“Except I took you out on a date afterward, so I guess I’m training you to throw me into water.”

“And you claim to not be complicated.”

I shrug. “I guess I need to provide you with better options to get me wet.”

“It’ll still result in your hair being wrecked.”

“And there would still be screaming.” I wink and pull my expression together with masterful speed.

“Are you ready to order?” our server asks in heavily accented English.

“ Oui, merci.” My entire French vocabulary is now exhausted.

Dinner on the French Riviera is kind of mind-blowing in itself, but I’m here with Preston.

And we’re having fun! And being nice to each other—in our way.

Not to knock the dinner we had last night, but splitting a bottle of wine really allows me to enjoy the meal more.

This is a perfect level of disinhibition.

Not enough to try to take his clothes off—can’t believe I was so trashed that I don’t remember that—but just right to ask stupid questions.

“How does a three-time Oscar-winning writer with a full head of hair,”—huzzah for not having enough wine to comment on his hair’s utter perfection—“and your body, remain single?”

“I guess I’ve been waiting for the right person.”

“Then you realized you’re getting old and decided to settle for me instead?”

He takes a bite of a sweet, wheat pancake, which was flambéed in Grand Marnier, and considers while he swallows. “Impatience is a vice of mine.”

That’s something we have in common. Especially as I have to repeatedly pull my gaze away from his lips. Stopping that kiss seems like a grievous mistake in hindsight. He is a really good kisser.

I take care of the bill despite Preston’s protests. “This is my apology-for-being-a-pain-in-the-ass dinner. Let me have this.”

“Then what am I supposed to do to make up for throwing you off a boat?”

“Oh, I can think of some things.”

He doesn’t break eye contact. It’s impossible to embarrass this man. “Are you always this bold?”

I pull my hair over my shoulder and stand. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He rises, and we set off down the street on foot. Monaco glows on one side, and the sea fades off into darkness on the other.

“Does Rafael know you used him as bait to get me here?”

Preston chuckles. “I’m sure he’ll figure it out.”

“Well, thank you for bringing me. Even if you hid your real intentions.” We stroll down the boardwalk as we get close to our hotel.

“Did I hide them so well?”

“Probably not. I chose to ignore logic.” Obviously, no one just invites a rival colleague they generally avoid on this kind of trip.

He stops and looks down at me. Familiarity washes over me at the sensation of craning my neck to meet his gaze.

“Why?” he says. “Did you approve of the more devious motivation?”

“Subconsciously, I suppose I did.”

All right, saying nice things might become a habit if it always results in him looking at me like this. His eyes are as warm and inviting as new soft grass in spring, and his smile doesn’t even piss me off when it’s for me rather than at me.

He bends down, and I rise onto my toes. I tangle my hands into his hair and kiss him like all the time I spent not kissing him today was a terrible waste of time.

My hunger is mirrored in his urgency—in the firmness of his grip, in the way his tongue claims my mouth.

He lifts me and sits me on the boardwalk rail.

“I swear to God, if you drop me in—”

His kiss silences my empty threat. When he pulls his lips a breath away from mine, he replies, “Not even possible.”

I guess it wouldn’t be, what with him holding me so tightly. As much as I hate to stop … “We should get inside before we’re arrested for doing things that are not allowed in public.”

He drops his forehead to mine and takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Sorry, I …”

“Me too.” Got carried away? Forgot the world existed? Want you so bad I’m going to explode? Any of those are sentiments I have to agree with.

Preston slides his hands around my waist and gets my feet back on the ground—in a physical sense, anyway. I’m still floating a bit as we walk hand in hand the short distance to the hotel. In the elevator, my hand trembles in his. He lifts it to his lips to lay a gentle kiss on my knuckles.

“You had a pretty quick change of heart,” he says.

“Did I, though?” When I couldn’t keep my distance, verbal jabs were the only way to avoid this.

It’s not so much a change of heart as proving I was lying to myself all along.

Preston had mostly treated me like a predatory cat he wanted to befriend but knew could kill him until this year.

Now that he seems to have moved past that fear, I realize it was probably protecting me more than him.

He squeezes my hand as the door opens, and we make our way down the hall. While I fish out my room key, he wraps his arms around me, pressing my back to his chest and stomach. When he nibbles my ear, I nearly drop the card. Finally, I get the door open.

Preston grasps my shoulders lightly as we walk in. “I guess a change of scenery really did help.”

I turn around and smile up at him. “It certainly didn’t hurt.” My fingers brush his neck as I start unbuttoning his shirt. “It kind of makes it not real, right? Like if worse comes to worst, there’s always the what happens in Monaco stays in Monaco option.”

His hand wraps around both of mine, and I look up to find his head cocked to the side. “You know that’s not what I’m trying to do.”

“Well, yeah. I’m not hoping for that either, but I can’t make any promises.”

“I know, but …” He pinches the bridge of his nose and presses his eyes closed.

“Hey.” I slide my hand up to rest on his jaw. “I’m not saying this would be a one-night stand. Just that we need to take it a day at a time.”

He nods. “Yeah, of course. I’m sorry. That caught me off guard.” Apparently, he is capable of frowning, but being the cause of it sends a spiderweb of cracks through me.

“No need to apologize. I’m sorry for joking about it.” I link my fingers behind his neck, stretched up on my toes to reach. “I’ve avoided this because I’m afraid of it.” Oh, perfect. Just enough wine to be that honest.

He slides his arms around me and pulls me against him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know.” I kind of hate that I can trust him, but I do.

We stand in silence for a moment in each other’s arms. Our momentum has been leading to sex, but I didn’t realize how much I needed this too.

“Well, that killed the mood.”

I snicker against him. “This is a nice mood too. Not that it would take much to rekindle the other one.” I arch back to look up at him. “Will you … stay with me?”

“Just to sleep?”

“Mhmm.”

“Okay.” He tucks my hair behind my ear, and I continue my forgotten task of unbuttoning his shirt. When it’s out of the way, his body sparks that longing in me, but more so, I just want to be in his arms.

I give him a light kiss and slip into the bathroom to change into a T-shirt. When I return, Preston is in my bed with his hands linked behind his head. He smiles when he takes in the sight of me. “Hey, you.”

“Hey.” I tie my hair up with the green scrunchie. “Bet this isn’t how you were hoping to get me into bed.” I get under the covers and turn off the lamp on my nightstand.

Warm arms wrap around me and pull my back to him. “It’s perfect.” He kisses my neck, and I sigh.

“Careful there, or you’ll switch the mood again.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“No, but I like this one for tonight.”

“Okay. Good night, Mira.”

“Good night.”

This is a perfect way to prove to him I wasn’t just being horny.

It proves it to me, too. Even if that explanation would be a lot easier to live with.

Still, I know he is not someone I can have a fling with.

Slowing things down and being careful is the right thing to do.

It also gives me time to consider the fact that he cares about me a lot, and I don’t know if I can be trusted with that.