A-List Kiss: A Laugh-Out-Loud Romantic Comedy Page 7

  “Gavin, who’s your beautiful date this evening?” Sammy Sparks was red-carpet ready in his immaculate black tux, his smile turned up to “eleven,” and his microphone perfectly pointed to ask Gavin the important questions—about me. Sammy Sparks! Oh, I was such a Hollywood Spotlight fan. And Sammy had just called me beautiful. My hands were shaking.

  Gavin cut his eyes to me and smiled, then returned his attention to Sammy. “This is Eden Perry.” Gavin did not define my role in his life. Good. I was glad, I told myself. After all, I’d only known him for two days. Sure, it felt like thirteen years. I’d been lusting after his screen persona for that long, but he hadn’t known me. That was completely one-sided. And a fantasy. This right here was the reality. And reality was just beginning.

  The camera and microphone swiveled in my direction, as if I were the news rather than merely reporting it. “Nice to meet you, Eden.” Sammy projected his on-screen smile at me. At me.

  “Nice to meet you, too, Sammy.” I managed not to giggle, but my cheeks were about to split with the largest smile I’d ever mustered.

  “Who are you wearing tonight?”

  My heart thudded double-time, and I silently thanked Corey for dragging me to Rodeo Drive so I had a not-embarrassing answer. “Vivica Angel.”

  Sammy nodded. His hair didn’t move. “Nice! And are you supportive of Gavin’s causes?”

  I was supportive of Gavin’s everything. I made a grab for Sammy’s microphone and spoke directly into it. “Yes, very! Gavin’s a saint! A philanthropist to whom we should all aspire. I wish more celebrities used their fame to enact social betterment like Gavin does.”

  I released the microphone and Sammy chuckled good-naturedly. “Well, Gavin, apparently you’ve brought your publicist as your date. If only my wife sang my praises like that. Nice to meet you, Eden.” Sammy started to turn away, then paused. “By the way, don’t you work at KLLA?”

  OMG. Sammy Sparks knew me! Maybe Sammy didn’t know me, but at least his producer did and whispered it to him in his IFB earpiece. Someone knew who I was and thought it important enough for Sammy to say on-air. Awesome. I mean, the LA broadcasting world was not huge, but I was a grunt.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I caught your interview with Gavin that aired last night. Very nice.” Sammy smiled at me. “I’d better watch out or you’ll be after my job!”

  I laughed. “I don’t even like my own job, let alone want yours!” I paused as my brain caught up to what I just said and covered my mouth with my hand. Talk about oversharing—and in front of a national audience, not to mention my boss and everyone at the station. “Besides, no one can get a story like you can, Sammy.” I swallowed, trying to recover.

  Sammy Sparks’s eyes went wide, and he turned his microphone to the next celebrity. Gavin and I proceeded up the red carpet, and I wondered why I’d never realized how long these things really were. Still so many chances to trip and fall.

  Gavin squeezed my hand. I gazed up at him, and he smiled reassuringly. The delicious feeling of his lips on mine played out all over again in my head. It had been an out-of-body experience. I’d loved kissing Gavin, but now I felt like I was watching the movie of me kissing Gavin, and that was even better. My face flushed and heat crept up my neck as I pictured myself on top of him in the back of the limo, my body rubbing against his, his hands sliding on the fabric of my dress. I longed to watch it on-screen a few…million times.

  I pushed thoughts of on-screen Gavin out of my head in favor of the hot-blooded-right-next-to-me version. My stomach twisted with excitement as I tried to absorb the heady atmosphere I was magically in the middle of, and the almost-liquid desire I felt for the man standing next to me.

  Best. Date. Ever. And it had barely begun.

  ∞∞∞

  The inside of the Pasadena Civic Center was as beautiful and unique as the outside. The high, arched ceilings of the hallways were painted a dark blue-green that evoked the Mediterranean waters of its Italian influence. Antique lantern chandeliers suspended at intervals conjured the glamor and romance of another era.

  “Are you having a good time?” Gavin inclined his head toward me and squeezed my hand.

  “Such a good time.” I beamed. I’d made it down the red carpet and into the building without tripping or peeing my pants, so I was doing great.

  He smiled and squired me around as people turned to watch us, nodding and finding things to say to Gavin, clapping him on the back or grabbing a quick handshake and greeting.

  There were muffled whispers of “Who is she?” that floated around us like smoke trailing a cigarette. Gavin never let go of my hand—he was my anchor in this dream.

  A white-haired gentleman in a loose-fitting tux tapped the podium microphone. “If I could have everyone’s attention, please.” The guests halted their excited chatter and granted him their full attention.

  “As you all know, we’re here to raise money for Rebuilt by the Stars. Every year our state is ravaged by earthquakes, forest fires, and other natural disasters that cause hundreds of people to lose their homes and their livelihoods…” The elderly man drifted into a recitation of statistics on the number of people affected, the areas worst hit in recent years, and a daunting task list.

  My eyes strayed to the many people in the room I recognized from television, film, and even sports. Excitement sparked through me. As I made a full circuit of the crowd with my eyes, I turned to my right and found that Gavin had slipped away and was no longer standing at my side.

  Before I had time to wonder where he’d gone, his smooth voice boomed over the microphone. “Can I get a round of applause for our Rebuilt by the Stars Chairman, please?”

  The crowd clapped enthusiastically. Gavin embraced the old gentleman and patted him before turning to the lectern to address the room.

  “When I started this charity, I wanted to make a difference to people less fortunate than myself. I knew I couldn’t do it alone. And that’s why I have all of you. All of you kind, devoted, giving people who are in the business of making dreams come true.” The room shook with applause. He’d only just started speaking. He waved them down. As he went on, I felt the pull of his attraction—not just physically, but the sheer charisma of his larger-than-life personality.

  Gavin seemed to meet the eyes of every single person there. How did he do that? His magnetic presence commanded notice—even adoration—effortlessly. This was why he was the biggest movie star in the world. Even without someone else writing his lines, he was eloquent. He was the only person worth watching in the entire room of beautiful people.

  When he finished speaking, the room erupted in thunderous applause. He left the podium, and another foundation board member took his place, gesturing toward Gavin and encouraging the applause. Gavin stepped down from the platform and walked straight to me, his gaze laser focused. I felt the stare of every glitterati in the room as they followed Gavin’s approach to his goal—me. I wanted his attention, but not the attention of everyone else. I tried not to look around. I didn’t want to see their expressions of disbelief, that ordinary me was the girl he was walking to.

  Gavin took my face in his hands and kissed me soundly on the mouth. I felt the blood rush to my head, straight up to my hairline. I was embarrassed by the attention and the surprise PDA. The clapping continued and Gavin put his arm around me. He flapped his hand at the crowd as if we were on a parade float, then he waved them off, self-deprecatingly, like he had no idea why they were still looking at him, and whisked me to our dinner table.

  Of course we had the best table—in the middle of the room where everyone could see us.

  “Would you excuse me a sec?” Gavin asked me, a familiar-looking man hovering behind him, beckoning for his attention.

  “Of course.”

  He smiled and squeezed my arm. I sat in my assigned seat. “Gavin Braddock – Guest” read my place card. I folded, then unfolded and re-folded my linen napkin and then tried to make it into an animal shape like t
hey do with towels on cruise ships.

  After an excruciatingly long ten minutes, someone sat back down beside me, knocking my elbow with his.

  “Sorry,” a deep voice said.

  My attention snapped to the man next to me. Not Gavin.

  My eyes registered the height and breadth of the man at my side. He took up more room than Gavin had. Physically, anyway. “What are you doing here, Special Agent?”

  “Trying to give back.” Matthew gestured to the room. “This is a charity that actually does something, right? Not just spend money on a party so celebrities can feel good about themselves?”

  Right. And I was Beyoncé. He was here for his case. Did he think Gavin was involved? Did he think I was? My jaw clenched. But also my heart pounded faster.

  “Shouldn’t you be home making out with your phone? I’d think the two of you would be on the fast track to a happily ever after.”

  “Oh, we’re happy.” He pulled his phone from his tuxedo jacket. “And time apart made us appreciate each other all the more.” He took a sip from Gavin’s water glass before I could stop him. “She’s portable, though, so we don’t have to stay home. She can follow me everywhere.”

  I don’t know why that sounded dirty. “Maybe you two should find a dark corner where you can be alone. Enjoy your happy ending.”

  He paused as if considering it, then glanced around and shrugged. “That would be hard here.”

  I leaned against my chair back. “Hard? Well, now you’re just bragging.” I stared at his phone and licked my lips.

  His eyes smiled as he wiggled the phone. “Uh-uh. I see what you’re doing. Trying to distract me. I’m going to put her away before you get any ideas about stealing her again.”

  I sat forward, oddly annoyed. “Believe me. Your phone is not something I’d want from you.”

  He leaned closer until we were only inches apart. I could smell the crisp tang of his aftershave. “And just what would you want from me?”

  A tendril of desire curled into my lower belly as my mind leafed through dozens of inappropriate answers.

  “Did you miss me?” Gavin’s sudden appearance made me jump. He smiled down at me.

  “Yes,” I answered on autopilot. When I turned back to the table, Matthew was gone.

  Chapter Ten

  Dinner was transcendent. Sublime. I could have died and gone to heaven after finishing the dessert with no regrets. Well…almost no regrets. I wouldn’t have minded having sex with Gavin first. Then eaten dinner. Then died…totally happy.

  The meal was catered by Wolfgang Puck, who was actually there, making sure each dish was perfection and dinner service ran smoothly. He stopped by our table to talk to Gavin and they chatted as if they were old friends.

  I didn’t want to out myself as a plebeian in this crowd, but I couldn’t resist getting my phone out and snapping a couple of pictures of Wolfgang. Sophie was going to freak. So would my thirteen Instagram followers. I glanced around, but no one had seemed to notice. I stuck my phone back into my purse. Gavin introduced me to Wolfgang before the famous chef hurried off to finish dinner service.

  The ethereal dinner was smoked jidori chicken, wild mushrooms, and Yukon gold mashed potatoes that were unlike any mashed potatoes I’d ever had—beyond creamy and rich, they hugged my tongue and made my eyes close. Dessert was a dark chocolate revelation of a dense cake with salted caramel inside, topped with molded chocolate in various geometric designs. And then, impossibly, I was dancing with Gavin Braddock in the civic center’s famous Gold Room as other couples—movie stars, television stars, and Hollywood movers and shakers—streamed around us in swirling clouds of colorful haute couture.

  Gavin gazed at me, his brow furrowed. “Are you having a good time?”

  “The best.” Best night of my life.

  “How’d you like the food?”

  “I loved it!” I got excited and dropped Gavin’s hand so I could gesture my enthusiasm for the menu. “I loved the smoked jidori chicken, and the mashed potatoes were to die for! How does he stuff all that cheese in there?”

  “They were good.” Gavin shrugged and rejoined our hands. “But the absolute best mashed potatoes I’ve ever had were at the Jules Verne in Paris.”

  I snuggled in closer to Gavin, leaning my head on his shoulder and inhaling the crisp, ocean scent of his masculine cologne.

  “I’ve never been to Paris.” I sighed, imagining French mashed potatoes I would never eat. The French did such wonderful things with fries, how could the mashed potatoes not be amazing? But somehow I couldn’t imagine mashed potatoes better than Wolfgang Puck’s, which were so full of cheese as to be almost self-supporting.

  Gavin grinned. “We should go!” We? Was he using the royal “we?” Or did he mean the two of us?

  No way was I embarrassing myself by wrongly assuming. “Who?”

  “Us! You and me. We should definitely go to Paris. I can’t believe you haven’t been. We must remedy that immediately.”

  He did mean me. Gavin and me. Together. In Paris. My knees threatened to buckle, but Gavin held me close. I should have thought about it. I should have hesitated. I should have thought it through for at least a millisecond. But I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I wanted this. Him. Gavin was my dream and always had been. And Paris? Paris was the geographical equivalent of my love for Gavin.

  “Yes! I’d love to go to Paris! All my life I’ve wanted to go to Paris! And now that I know they have great mashed potatoes, it’s perfect!” I actually jumped up and down. Which took talent in heels. Gavin pulled back and smiled at me.

  “How about tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow?” I squeaked. Tomorrow? Yes! No. Do rich people just do that? Go to Paris like they’re going to a movie? Don’t you need shots or something first? A visa?

  “I’m between projects at the moment, and filming on Blinking at the Sun doesn’t start for another month. Perfect timing for fun.” He stopped dancing and peered down at me, waiting for my answer.

  “I’d love to go…but…” I trailed off, floundering in the uncharted waters. Disappointment emanated from him already in the slight dip of his arms around me and a withdrawal of the heat of his body from mine as he took half a step back.

  “I don’t think I could be ready by tomorrow. Could we wait a few days or a week or something?” I gazed up at him, hoping he wasn’t going to rescind the impulsive invitation. But I couldn’t just run off to Paris tomorrow. Normal people didn’t do that. There was my job to think about. Much as I didn’t like it, it was mine. I had responsibilities. Who else would chase down turkeys and chickens and kids’ lemonade stands and other stories that no one would watch?

  Gavin’s eyes sparkled. “Come on! Haven’t you ever played hooky? Paris awaits!” He swung me out in our dance and twirled me around and brought me back in close to him. I was dizzy from the dance, and from him. “Say yes, you’ll go tomorrow. Say yes,” he said. He nuzzled my neck and whispered in my ear a lingering hiss of “yesss.”

  “Yes,” I said as he twirled me out and back into his arms again, pinning me to him. Why not?

  ∞∞∞

  The rest of the night passed in a blur of famous faces and the warmth and comfort of Gavin’s arms. He was unerringly attentive and introduced me to all the glittery people who spoke to him, which felt like everyone who was anyone in the entire world.

  I did catch sight of Special Agent Matthew a few times, but whatever his secret reasons for being there, he made no move to talk to me again.

  At the end of the night, Gavin took me home in the limo. When we arrived at my apartment, he walked me to the door and kissed me on the doorstep like we were Donna Reed and Jimmy Stewart on a date in It’s a Wonderful Life. That is to say a little too chastely.

  “Until tomorrow.” He leaned away from the more involved kiss I leaned forward for. He grinned and waved as he walked away.

  My cheek muscles ached from all the smiling I’d been doing all night. I waved back. Tomorrow was a
promise zipping through my veins.

  Sophie wasn’t home—she was probably over at Corey’s. Normally I’d chase them down, but Paris was my priority, and I had only twenty-four hours to plan. I started researching travel to Paris on the Internet and found out that I did not need shots or a visa. I did need a passport, which I had.

  I decided I’d call in sick or something to work in the morning. There wasn’t time to do anything else. And this trip with Gavin was a once in a lifetime opportunity. A once in a thousand lifetimes opportunity. I took my suitcase out from under my bed and packed my sexiest lingerie and my best clothes and shoes, but nothing I owned was anywhere close to the dress I’d worn tonight. I’d leave my suitcase half-empty and buy more appropriate-for-dating-a-movie-star clothes in Paris.

  Would I have to pay for my own plane ticket? That had to be astronomically expensive to buy at the last minute. But I guess if you’re dating a famous movie star, maybe he buys your plane ticket like he buys your Cartier necklace and your plate at the charity dinner.

  The scrape of the key in the lock and the bang of the front door alerted me to Sophie’s return home. She ran to my room and threw open the door. “So?” she said breathlessly. “Tell me everything! Wait, what are you doing?” She took in the half-packed suitcase on the bed. “Are you moving out? Are you going back to Georgia? Was the date really that bad? Oh no, he broke your heart.” Real tears gathered in her eyes. “If he hurt you, I will break his gorgeous nose!”

  “No, no, no!” I gave her a big hug. “Soph—Gavin is taking me to Paris!”

  Sophie pulled away from the hug. “You’re going to Paris with international mega-star Gavin Braddock?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh. My. God.” Sophie breathed. “Does he know?”

  I gave her a look. “Very funny. Of course he knows. He’s the one who said I should play hooky from work and run off to Paris with him tomorrow.”