Exposed to You (One Night of Passion 2)

“Well, spit it out,” he demanded, concern giving his tone an edge.

“Everett, was it absolutely necessary for you to spend all that time with Jennifer?”

His mouth dropped open. He glanced toward the front door and the porch.

“Wait . . . are you telling me that Joy left because she was upset about my talking to Jennifer? Did she tell you that?” he demanded.

“No, she did not tell me that,” Katie said succinctly. “She told me that everything was fine. But I—unlike you—am sensitive to what she was probably experiencing.”

“Jennifer was telling me about that guy, John Corcoran, for God’s sake,” he blurted out. “She’s in love with him. She’s crazy about him! She wants to marry him. He had some hang-ups about being blind and being able to take care of her, but they’ve worked through all that. But that’s not the point—you know as well as I do that Jennifer and I are just friends. We broke up because we realized our relationship wasn’t going to grow any further than it had.”

“I know that. Joy doesn’t, though.”

“Well, why didn’t you tell her, then?” Everett asked loudly. Daisy gave a little shriek in the distance. Katie gave him an admonishing look. “Sorry,” he mumbled, contrite, but still irritated. “Why didn’t you stick up for me?”

“I tried to, but Joy was too busy running out the door,” Katie insisted.

“But all I did was talk to a friend.”

Katie rolled her eyes. “It looked like a pretty intense talk.”

He cursed under his breath.

“Everett, when are you going to wake up and acknowledge the rest of the world—you know, the majority of the planet, the people who only know about you from multi-billion-dollar movie productions and Entertainment Premiere and headlines on tabloids at the grocery store checkout? What do you think it’s like for Joy to be asked out by Everett Hughes, and suddenly have his ex-girlfriend—one of the most stunning women in the world—show up here? How many times do you think Joy has stood in the checkout line and looked at photos of you and Jennifer cavorting on a beach and supposedly making plans for having a baby—”

“Don’t you dare quote that particular pile of horseshit to me. It has nothing to do with reality, and you know it,” he interrupted sharply.

“But does Joy?”

“But there’s nothing between Jennifer and me. Nothing like that.”

“Try to see things from Joy’s point of view, Everett. I’m your sister. I know you and Jennifer don’t consider yourself a god and goddess walking on earth, but practically the entire rest of the population of the world does.”

“That’s crap,” he said, sick of the familiar refrain coming from Katie. “Joy isn’t like that. She’s very down-to-earth.”

“I know she’s down-to-earth. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a few insecurities, just like most people.”

Everett winced. “You think she was really upset?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing that can’t be repaired.” His gaze sharpened on his sister when she hesitated. “You seem to really like Joy, Everett.”

“I do.”

Katie nodded. “She’s not a Hollywood player, but she’s also not like one of those women from that dating agency you tried—that one that features nice, normal women that are difficult for a movie star to meet.”

“Supposedly nice, normal women,” Everett said darkly. The dating service Katie referred to was called Corner International. Its clients included the Hollywood elite and wealthy, individuals who were fed up with being surrounded by sharks of their own kind and wanted to meet the girl or boy next door. Everett knew of a few friends in the business who had liked the service and ended up marrying quite happily. Everett’s experience had been less than ideal, however, and he’d ended up swearing off any kind of dating service years ago.

“Well, whatever,” Katie said. “My point is, at least those women knew what they were signing up for. Joy hasn’t signed up for anything.”

“You don’t need to remind me, Katie.”

“Everett, I just mean—”

“I

know what you mean,” he said abruptly. He met Katie’s concerned glance and added more restrainedly. “I do.”

He knew she was right, but it frustrated the hell out of him nevertheless. He was a man whose job happened to hurtle him into the limelight. He loved acting, relished in perfecting his craft, savored the challenge of conquering a new role. If he’d ended up on the local stage, or as a film character actor with small, rewarding parts, he would have still been an actor. He would still have loved his job. As a matter of fact, he routinely took roles in independent, low-budget films that spurred his growth and creativity because he did love acting so much. It just so happened that his career trajectory had hurtled him into the living rooms and consciousness of millions of people. He couldn’t say he regretted the opportunities fame had provided him, because that would be a lie. But he identified most with acting, not being a movie star. And there were times—like right now—he would have gladly chucked the whole thing if it meant being seen clearly by a woman like Joy.