Escorting the Actress by Leigh James
Lowell
The trafficto LAX was insane, as usual. Wishing I'd brought coffee with me, I watched the throng of vehicles from the back of our hired Town Car.
"Do you think we're going to miss our flight?" Kyle asked.
I checked the GPS; even with the traffic we'd make it to the airport in an hour. "We should be okay. I'm worried that there'll be a ton of reporters we have to get through, though." Our regulars knew where we were heading, and there was usually a group that camped out at LAX, waiting to snap pictures of disheveled or perfectly composed celebrities departing and landing.
I was probably looking more on the disheveled end of the spectrum, although I'd dressed carefully. My nerves were frayed, and I was running on nervous adrenaline; the dance I'd shared with Kyle last night, followed by the conversation we had, had unnerved me. If we actually wanted to be together, we could, you know. His words rang in my ears, leaving me a jangling mess.
Maybe it was a good thing I'd left my coffee at home.
On top of that, we were headed to Boston for Kyle's mandatory meeting with Pierce. I was happy to go and support Kyle, as he'd been supporting me, but I was petrified of his dad. The last time I'd seen Pierce Richards, he'd been white with anger, shaking at the sight of my mother exiting the courtroom with buckets of his money. Ugh.
I pulled out my compact and looked at my traitorous reflection. I looked as though I hadn't skipped a meal in weeks. Because I hadn't. Lucas was going to kill me. "Ugh."
"Don't say ugh when you look at yourself—that's sacrilege." Kyle squeezed my hand. "And don't worry about the photographers. We'll get through them, and this time, we won't tell them where we're going."
He squeezed my hand again, making my stomach lurch with excitement.
I pulled away from him. "You don't have to do that right now."
He sat back and grimaced. "You don't always have to pull away from me. Maybe you could, like, relax. For once in your life." He stared at me, forcing me to confront those green eyes and that square, luscious jaw.
Luscious? WTF's up with the word choice, Lo?Like you don't have enough problems already?
Kyle narrowed his eyes at me. "I enjoy being with you, Lo. I've had fun with you. I can't remember the last time I had fun that didn't involve getting so drunk I couldn't see straight."
"Disneyland was great. It was fun," I agreed quickly. I wanted to keep my distance from him for a variety of reasons, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings. "You're doing a great job. Thank you for everything. Really. You've turned a bad situation into a redeeming success, and you even managed to keep me from looking like a total klutz on the dance floor. You're like a miracle worker."
His face relaxed into a smile. "Yes. Yes, I am."
He threw his arm around me. I looked at him pleadingly, not wanting to hurt his feelings, as I scooted out from under it.
"I'm not used to people touching me," I explained lamely. "Can we just save that for the cameras? Is that okay? It's just… easier for me that way."
Easier for me to keep from hopping onto your lap and straddling you when your arms aren't around me.
I grimaced, digging my nails into my palms, desperate to get a grip. Mental slap, Lo. Mental. Fucking. Slap.
"Of course it's okay," he said too easily. He turned away and looked out the window. "Lo... I know you said it's 'cause you work all the time… but really. Why no boyfriend?"
I blew out a deep breath and stared out the window at the traffic. "You want the truth?"
He looked at me expectantly.
"I have a hard time trusting people. If a guy's interested, I never know if it's for me or for the publicity. I've just heard too many nightmare stories—girls who thought their boyfriend was all about them, then suddenly they're trying out for commercials, calling the paparazzi to follow them so they can be in the magazines, all sorts of horrible things. And after seeing my mother go through guy after guy, I guess... I guess I'd just rather be alone. Build my own empire. If I meet somebody at some point, okay. But if not, it's not the end of the world. There are other things in life."
"That sounds awfully lonely."
I turned back to him, my eyebrow raised. "How about you? When was your last serious relationship?"
"Never. But it's not like I've been lonely, if you know what I mean."
I shook my head. "Sometimes I think being around people you don't really care about is a lot lonelier."
Kyle's eyes went dark, and he turned back toward the window. "You're smart. Must've been all the books you read growing up."
The LAX terminalwas teeming with yelling paparazzi.
"Lo! Where are you guys headed?"
"Kyle, are you taking her away to propose to her?"
"Are you in trouble with your director?"
"Are you pregnant?"
"Are you two really a couple? Or is this a publicity stunt?" a female voice called.
I saw that damned Katie from XYZ, watching us with her brow furrowed.
I furrowed my brow back at her and inwardly cursed. "I'm not sure why you're asking that, but it's real." I turned to Kyle. "I'm going to kiss you, okay?" I whispered a little breathlessly.
He didn't even hesitate. He swept me into his arms and kissed me tenderly, running his hands down my back and sending shockwaves through my body.
He pulled away and grinned at the press. "Did you guys get that? Or do you need me to do it again?" He looked at Katie, challenging her. "For more evidence?"
There were whoops and hollers from the majority of our onlookers, but Katie just watched us skeptically. Kyle put his arm around me protectively, and now I welcomed it. He smiled at the press and squeezed my shoulder.
"We're taking a quick romanticgetaway." Kyle pulled his sunglasses up on top of his thick hair and grinned at them. It seemed as if a thousand flashes went off. "Emphasis on the romance, for you non-believers. We won't tell you where we're going—that'd just spoil the fun—but we'll see you when we get back. Behave while we're gone."
"Lowell, what about that exclusive?" one of the reporters called.
"Call my agent, Shirley Reeder," I called. "She'd love to book it."
"Who's gonna get it?"
Kyle beamed at them again. "Whoever asks nicest." His eyes found Katie's. "We've narrowed the list down quite a bit."
He grabbed my hand and pulled me into the security line, waving good-bye to all the photographers and grinning madly. I shook my head and laughed at him.
"What?" he asked, sounding extremely pleased with himself.
"You've got a gift." He was still holding my hand, and that made me feel warm and protected; I pulled my hand away.
He pulled his sunglasses back down and gave me a little frown. "Don't look now—they're right behind us." He took my hand back possessively.
I didn't turn and look. I just stood with him in line, my fingers twined through his, and tried to ignore all the feelings rushing through me. There was heat, yes, but it was something more than that—something even more terrifying.
I was having fun. I liked him. And I didn't want to stop being next to him.
It was our turn at security, and I took the opportunity to disengage myself from Kyle to get my identification. I felt Kyle look at me briefly, but I didn't look back.
It was clear to me, now: I knew what I wanted. It was what I could never have.
Now I just had to get my shit together and accept it.
First class was almost full, but we still managed to find a little corner all to ourselves.
"Why was Katie asking us that?" I asked, playing the scene over and over in my mind.
Kyle shook his head. "I don't know where that came from. I do know it can't be good."
"Maybe we're not doing a good enough job pretending?" I asked in low tones.
"Who's pretending?" Kyle asked innocently. He laced his fingers through mine, then he just sat there, stubbornly holding my hand.
"We're clear. No one followed us," I whispered, pulling away from him. "You don't have to do that."
He wouldn't let go of my hand. "I want to do that." He jerked his chin toward our hands.
"Why?" I asked, my heart pounding.
"My hand feels lonely without your hand," He grinned at me. "So deal with it. If you don't want to hold my hand, then don't."
I just sat there, looking at our entwined hands as if they belonged to aliens. "But what… but why…" I was flustered, unable to decide which question to ask.
"Talk to the hand, Lo," Kyle said, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. "You want to get into semantics? Talk to it. Tell me if you get the response you're looking for." He didn't let go of me for an instant.
I bent down toward his hand. "You are being very stubborn," I whispered at it.
With his eyes closed, Kyle smiled briefly. But he didn't budge. Sighing in defeat, neither did I.
Because I didn't want to.
Shortly thereafter, the plane took off, and Kyle fell asleep. I watched his handsome face, turned toward me, completely oblivious and innocent. In my past dealings with Kyle, he'd never been innocent. But really, he seemed as though he'd changed.
Hitting rock bottom can do that to you. I looked at our entwined hands. I ought to know.
I looked out the window, grateful that he was next to me. I listened to his even, regular breathing and clung to him in a way I never would have had he been awake.
I was dangerously close to having real feelings for Kyle. I'd always wanted him to like me when we were kids, but this was different. And much worse. Because now we were adults. I was in a precarious situation to start with—publicly shamed and about to be fired from my movie. Kyle had saved me, at least for now. But if the press found out the truth about our circumstances, they'd crucify me, and I'd never work in Hollywood again. I was still too new to be inoculated from the fallout. If they found out I'd hired an escort, I'd be done for. If they also found out that he was my ex-stepbrother, my walk of shame would last all the way back to Texas.
But it wasn't just that. It was his father and my mother. If my mother were Stateside right now, she'd probably have to be involuntarily held at a yoga retreat so she wouldn't attack him. She'd never forgiven him about those drapes. Knowing my mother, she never would.
I looked at Kyle. His face was relaxed in sleep, belying none of the stress I knew he felt about seeing his father again. I was glad that he was here with me, but it was a sharp feeling. I was so glad it hurt.
I went back to looking out the window, not letting go of his hand.
I wokeup a few hours later when I felt water dripping down my chin. I sat up straight and wiped it… only to realize I'd been drooling. I shot a surreptitious look at Kyle, who was unfortunately wide awake and reading the sports section of the Los Angeles Times.
"Hey there," he said, smirking, as he handed me a napkin. "It looks like you were dreaming about me."
"Ha ha." I furiously wiped my reddening face.
"We're almost there," he said.
I noticed he was no longer holding my hand.
"Missing something?" he asked, wriggling his fingers and flashing me a mischievous grin.
"No," I said, scoffing and still wiping my face. "You wish."
He put his head on my shoulder. I tried not to notice how good he smelled. I didn't even know what it was—some sort of mixture of shampoo and sleep and… virility. I shivered as my mouth filled with saliva again. I was literally drooling over him.
For fuck's sake,get a grip.
"Do you know where we're staying?" He sat up and stretched, yawning.
"No, Tori booked everything. She's supposed to send me an itinerary text when we land."
"Great." Kyle folded up the sports section and linked his hand back through mine. "I love romantic getaways."
I glared at him, a mixture of excitement and annoyance coursing through me. "You know that this isn't—"
He held up our linked hands again, his eyes glimmering with mischief. "You know what I'm gonna say."
I wished I had a human sexuality textbook handy. I felt as if I might need it, for a variety of reasons.
