Where You Are

He nods, lips compressed. “The caveman,” he says finally.

“The who?”

“Every man has an inner caveman. Unless he’s a flaming queen, in which case he has an inner wild-eyed, jealous bitch—as in the case of an ex of mine. But I digress.” He starts to eat his cookie and I think maybe that’s the extent of his reflections on Neanderthal impulses, until he looks me in the eye. “Imagine you and Emma are alone. She looks deep into your eyes and declares: you’re mine. How does that make you feel?”

It’s freaking obvious how that makes me feel—my fingers curl into my palms, my pulse hammers, my breathing speeds and I wouldn’t be surprised if my eyes just dilated.

He chuckles. “In private, between the two of you, there’s nothing wrong with a little… caveman sentiment. Or cavewoman, as the case may be. It’s natural.”

I’d practically driven Emma across her hotel room and onto her bed the first time I saw her after we decided to be together. The chance that will happen again, as soon as I get to the hotel this afternoon, is high. I want to touch her so badly that my skin tightens at the thought of her, nerve endings sensitive and raw. These reactions are visceral—primitive, and I’ve been trying to repress them ever since the first moment I saw her. What a waste of energy that has been.

“Thanks, Tim.”

“Glad to be of service.” He waggles his brows once, pulling Bose headphones on and leaning his seat all the way back.

Chapter 30

Emma

I’m about to text Graham to see if he’s checked in yet when there’s a knock at the door. Glancing in the mirror as I pass it and wishing I’d had two minutes to check my hair and brush my teeth, I take a deep breath and make myself walk to the door. I want to run to it.

I pull the door open and feel my smile falter and resume half-heartedly. “Reid.”

He sighs. “God, woman, at least try to look like I’m not the last person on earth you’d like to see at your door. My self-image might never recover. You don’t want to be responsible for destroying my career, do you?”

Rolling my eyes at Reid’s exaggeration—as if I could deliver any kind of blow to his sense of self—I ignore his silly speech, backing up to let him in. “What’s up?” I shouldn’t have expected Graham. I don’t even know if he’s arrived at LAX yet.

Reid drops onto the small sofa. “We should talk about tonight’s logistics. The red carpet, the seating during the showing, whether or not you’ll need a paper bag to breathe into while you watch an entire film full of Emma Pierce on the huge screen…”

“Ha, ha,” I say with a nervous flutter in my stomach at the thought of that. Discomfort at watching yourself onscreen isn’t unheard of—some big-name actors even refuse to do it, which keeps me from feeling like a complete weirdo. I won’t need the paper bag if Graham is sitting next to me. He can unwind me with a look, or the smallest touch.

Rather than joining Reid on the sofa, I go back to unpacking, calling the concierge to have my dress for the premiere steamed for tonight. “I guess we’ll be walking in together, sitting next to each other during the showing. But… I’d like to have Graham on the other side of me.”

His mouth tightens a fraction with a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Should be fine. If anything, it will just add to the drama. I take it production doesn’t have any clue about you and Graham?”

I shake my head, pulling out the pretty silver stilettoes I’m sure to hate by the end of the night. Chloe helped me shop for the shoes, and the dress. She was ecstatic when I agreed to let her assist, and she would have earned the Emily stamp of approval for the withering rebuke she sneered at a clerk at the boutique who wasn’t accommodating enough:

“This is Emma Pierce, and we’re choosing a gown for the worldwide premiere of the film School Pride, in which she stars alongside Reid Alexander! Fetch someone who can figure out what that requires, or we will take our business elsewhere!”

The snooty clerk, wide-eyed with panic by the time she heard Reid’s name, sprinted to the back. Minutes later, we were shown to a private dressing room and offered champagne while dozens of dresses were presented for our inspection. After narrowing these as though she was choosing weapons for battle, Chloe had me try on the few that made the cut. The green and silver dress we chose—our agreement my second shock of the day—is backless and flows to mid-calf.

I can hardly wait for Graham to see me in it.

Reid watches me remove the dress from my suitcase and hang it on the door. “That’s going to be stunning on you, with your beautiful green eyes.”

I clear my throat and murmur, “Thank you,” recalling what he said a couple of weeks ago—that if Graham screwed up he wanted another chance. And that kiss on Monday—what was that? Even if I didn’t feel it or respond to it, the fact that he did it was disconcerting.

When I turn away from the door, he’s standing close enough that I startle, my heart galloping under my hand. “God, Reid.” Instantly recognizing his heated expression, I brace my hands against his chest. “Don’t.”

He presses no closer, but he doesn’t step back, either. “Do you think you’re in love with him, too?” His voice is very soft, his eyes almost navy blue in the entry alcove of my room, away from the windows and light.

“Too?”

A knock at the door sends me stumbling into him. He steadies my shoulders under his firm grasp as my heart races from the hard, unexpected knock.