A Brand New Ending (Page 22)

He cocked his head and regarded her intently. “Very cool.”

Feeling like she was safely past the danger zone, her muscles relaxed. She formed the crust in the pan, pinching her fingers along the rim. “I may not be a big star making a splash in the world, but I’m pretty damn satisfied knowing I’ve made a few people happy along the way. I like being reminded how simple kindness can be completely underrated, yet change so much.”

She glanced over at him—and froze.

He was staring at her with such hungry intensity, her nipples tightened in awareness and her blood began to heat. As if he’d finally heard her words and understood. He’d always been able to read her—to delve beyond the surface of fake civilities and barriers and fears to the truth hidden deep. What shattered her was how, after finding her truth, he’d loved her anyway. Loved her so hard and completely, she’d have willingly given him anything he asked.

And she had. Oh, how she had.

Until he changed and let her walk away without a fight.

But right now, he reminded her of the old Kyle.

If he asked again, would she be able to fight him? Maybe not. Because nothing had ever been as good as being loved by Kyle Kimpton.

He seemed to sense her struggle and allowed her to retreat. The knife flashed as he expertly attacked the potatoes. “I never looked at it like that. Age changes our perspective. The things we imagined we hated are the same ones to fulfill us now. Quite a conundrum.”

“Ah. Pulling out the big writer words, huh?” she teased.

“Just making sure you haven’t gotten lazy with your vocabulary,” he said.

“Smart ass.”

He grinned and placed the meat into the marinade to season. “What time do the troops come?”

“An hour. They like to have a cocktail and pick on cheese and crackers before we serve.” He started laughing, and she glanced up in puzzlement. “What’s so funny?”

“Remember that big party we went to at that producer’s house?”

“We attended too many; they all blur together,” she said.

“No, the very first one. The producer with the fetish for naked Greek statues—remember they were all over his property? He said he wanted me to write for him, and we had to meet the team.”

She gasped. “The party with all the cheese!”

He broke into more laughter. “Yes—the cheese. We were so excited—thought we’d be feasting on caviar and crab cakes and champagne—”

“And we were starved because we’d skipped dinner.”

“We started looking around frantically for the cocktail servers, but there was only drinks and a table filled with cheese,” he said.

“And crackers! I thought Hollywood despised carbs, but there must’ve been a hundred different crackers and cheeses laid out—and nothing else.” She shook her head.

God, they’d been so young.

“I can’t believe we drank all that champagne on an empty stomach.”

“Well, no one was eating the cheese! We would’ve looked gauche if we began tearing into the stuff. It was only there for show.”

“And then I got sick.” She groaned at the memory. “The bathroom was so nice, too. Chandeliers and carpeting and pure marble counters. But all I saw was the fancy toilet.”

“I felt terrible. I should’ve demanded a PB and J for you.”

His serious tone made her laugh harder. “I felt terrible for you. Besides holding my hair back as I puked, we had to leave early. You missed the opportunity to schmooze with the team.” She’d been racked with guilt when he hadn’t gotten that job, always believing she was at fault.

His voice was whisper soft. “I didn’t care. I had everything that mattered.” He paused. “I had you.”

The breath stuck in her lungs. On cue, the air tightened and hummed with a wicked surge of electricity and awareness. Her entire being ached to cross the kitchen and walk into his arms. It would be like going home again.

Would he still taste like coffee and peppermint? Would his body still fit against hers in perfect symmetry? Would his lips and tongue still plunder her mouth with the same passion and intimacy, building her up toward a shattering release?

Yes.

But it was too late. She had to keep reminding herself that their time had passed and that, sometimes, there was no going back. If she tried, she might get stuck again—and she’d never be able to survive a second heartbreak.

Ripping her gaze away, she concentrated on mixing the eggs and butternut squash with the flour mixture, carefully blending wet into dry.

“I found two lawyers that may work for the divorce,” she said, keeping her tone light. “I’ll send them over. I left messages for them to call me back Monday.”

“Are they in California?”

“Yes. My research shows we can do most of it through the mail, with some conference calls.”

He didn’t answer, just spent long moments concentrating on his task.

She shifted her weight and spoke again. “I know you’re working on the screenplay, but this is important. We need to have things in motion before you leave. So if you don’t pick a lawyer quickly, I will.”

He grunted. “I don’t know what the rush is. Not like we’re looking to marry someone else. Right?”

She ignored the warning in his voice. “This time I want the official papers in hand. As long as we both work together, there shouldn’t be any reason the process won’t go smoothly. I mean, for all intents and purposes, we’re divorced. We just need to file the paperwork and make it legal.”

“Is that how you look at it?” He regarded her intently, hip cocked, his shirt emphasizing the carved muscles of his chest. One stray golden lock fell stubbornly past his eyebrow. Those lips tightened in irritation.

She ignored his body language and plunged ahead. “Of course. I’m viewing it like a bankruptcy.”

“Excuse me?”

“A bankruptcy. Let’s say you lose all your money and become destitute. Your credit is wiped out, and you have to deal with the emotional fallout of shame, devastation, and wondering what you could have done differently. You go to court, file the papers, go home, and move forward. After a few years, you rebuild your credit and become financially stable again. If you’re contacted by a lawyer and told the actual bankruptcy papers never went through so, legally, there was no bankruptcy, does that change the outcome? No, because you’ve already gotten past the hard stuff. You’ve already grieved over having no money and left it behind. It’s just paperwork that wasn’t filed correctly. Emotionally, it means nothing. Get it?”

Her eyes widened when he carefully placed the pan down and stalked across the room. She had no time to retreat, no time to emotionally prepare. Within seconds, he was just there, towering over her, pinning her hips against the countertop, raking his gaze over her face as if memorizing every one of her features for his dreams tonight.

“Wanna know how I see it?” he drawled.

She cleared her throat and frowned. “No. Why are you so close? Go back over there.”

“See, I may have gone through all the emotion of losing my money, but somehow, deep inside, I still hoped the whole thing was one big mistake. I still dreamed I’d get a second chance at getting it right.” His hand lifted as if to stroke her hair, then fell back to his side. Sexy scruff clung to his jaw and outlined his lips like a frame for an erotic picture. “So when I get that call that there was no bankruptcy, my ass is going out to purchase one sweet red sports car.”