Fake (West Hollywood 1)

Which was when it happened. Liv Anders swept in on the arm of her husband. Holy shit. She was everything she seemed in the movies and more. Tall and slender and perfect in every way. Her red body-con dress and towering stiletto heels were amazing and the silken curtain of her long hair was breathtaking. Grant wasn’t bad either—all tall, dark, and handsome. No wonder they were the power couple.

And this was not good. Lots of sets of eyes seemed to suddenly be on us. Way more than those who’d taken an interest before. Dammit.

I took a step closer to Patrick, sliding my hand up his chest. The man’s eyebrows bunched up as he gazed down at me. Like he wasn’t quite sure what I was up to. Then he slid an arm around my waist, drew me in closer against his body, and asked in a low voice, “Is it a photographer?”

“No,” I whispered. “Don’t look, but Liv and Grant just walked in. We’ve got a lot of attention on us right now.”

“Fuck.”

“It’s alright.”

His muscles tensed beneath the palm of my hand. His whole body was strung out and solid. So many different emotions seemed to pass through his eyes. Hurt, anger, and regret. Guess this was the first time he’d been in the same room as her since it all happened. Without a doubt, whatever happened between him and Liv mattered. What a mess. What would be in his eyes if he looked at her? I don’t think I really wanted to know. My position by his side might be temporary, but on some level it would hurt. Silly me.

“They were supposed to be in New York,” he said. “Angie checked.”

“Guess we were bound to run into them at some point,” I said. “How do you want to handle this?”

“Whatever we do, people are going to talk.”

“Yeah.”

“Less chance of a scene if we leave now, though.”

“Okay. Should we say good night to Cole?”

“No. He’ll understand.” Patrick leaned down, getting close. Close enough that the rest of the world kind of blurred. It was a magic trick of his, to making everything but him disappear. And I don’t doubt it looked intimate and romantic to those watching. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Out in the cool night air, the flashes of the paparazzi’s cameras were blinding as Patrick helped me into his Porsche 911. Good thing I’d worn pants. The low-slung beast of a sports car was something else. We drove in silence. No music or anything. Just the faint hum of the road and the wind and the world we were passing by. It was only when we were heading back into the hills that he started to speak. “They’d been separated for months.”

“Liv and Grant?” I asked, tone cautious.

A brief nod from him.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I know.” He cleared his throat. “I want to tell you. I feel like I should explain.”

“Okay.”

“They hadn’t made an announcement or anything, but they’d been living apart for a while, were planning on getting divorced. They’d still appear at things together now and then, but . . .”

I shifted in my seat so I could watch him better. “You thought they were over.”

“Yeah. She said she was ready to move on and I believed her.”

I just waited.

“Grant and I were friends. We’d known each other for years. Worked together a couple of times,” he said. “But we’d hung out together off set as well. He has a place in Kauai I’d visited.”

“Right.”

“I talked to him and he agreed that they were over, but he obviously felt differently about things later. The truth is, I shouldn’t have gone near her. No excuses. I knew I shouldn’t and I did it anyway. Even if you do break up with someone, the last damn person you want to see them with is a friend. Someone you’re supposed to be able to trust.” He angrily thumped the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. “Sorry. Sorry. I just . . .”

“Should I drive?”

“No. It’s okay.” He sighed. “You’re safe with me, I promise.”

I nodded, trying to relax.

“Liv and I had always had chemistry, but I should have known better.”

“Did you have feelings for her?” I asked.

His brows rose. “I thought I did. Now I’m not so sure. It’s all been buried by what came after.”

“Consequences suck.”

“This is true.”

“On the other hand, you do seem to have saved their relationship.”

His laughter was wholly devoid of any happiness. “And caused my own career to tank.”

“That’s temporary.”

“I wish she’d have picked up the phone and told me what the hell was really going on. Having to find out they were back together through the fucking media . . .”

“That must have hurt.”

“I deserved what happened,” he said.

I relaxed my cheek against the cool leather of the car seat, watching him. The unhappy furrows in his brow and tense line of his lips. He was one pissed off male with a whole lot of emotional baggage. Guess sort of breaking the bro code would do that to you.