She grabbed some workout clothes and her tennis shoes. Now that Seth was finished in the facility, she was eager to get out some of her frothing feelings with a good workout.
John and Jennifer’s workout facility was much larger and more sophisticated than she’d anticipated. She discovered the lower level also featured a den, a bathroom and a wet bar. Because John was blind, the treadmills and cardio machines in the exercise room all possessed video and tactile monitors, and audio prompts as well. Spurned on by her volatile mood and a smooth-voiced female occasionally goading her to move faster, Gia got in a good sweaty hour-and-twenty-minute workout.
When she entered the bedroom later, she saw no sign of Seth. By the time she’d showered and dried her hair, her thoughts and emotions were a little calmer. It wasn’t that she thought Seth’s attitude toward her was fair. It wasn’t. She wasn’t going to apologize to him for being an actress and loving her job.
But her reality didn’t negate his. He probably had seen a lot of things she hadn’t, despite the fact that she hated when he mentioned her youth and inexperience. He’d never struck her as intolerant or bitter. If he had strong opinions, he’d likely come by them honestly.
Yet, that didn’t make them right.
She dressed in the jeans and button-down shirt she’d had on before her workout and stepped out of the bathroom. Seth had raised the fabric blinds. Afternoon sunlight turned the bedroom into a cozy, golden haven. He’d also made the bed. For a few seconds, she just stared at the neat bedding, imagining their unrestrained, wild . . . and, yes, soulful lovemaking last night and this morning.
It had been a mistake to expose herself. Hadn’t it?
Her heart seemed to swell painfully.
No. She might not have liked what he’d said this morning, but being with Seth didn’t feel wrong. This whole conflict between them did though.
She grabbed the remote control and curled up against the pillows, her knees drawn up, her back to the door. She turned on the television and flipped through the channels, desperate to distract herself.
A quick flash of her own pale, averted face on the television screen stilled her impatient punching on the remote. The curvy, brunette hostess of Hot Topics continued to talk as clips of Gia avoiding cameras played in the background.
“Despite being one of the most sought-after faces in both celebrity and legal circles these days, Gia Harris seems to have dropped off the radar. An inside source reveals that the popular star of Fatal Honor and Glory Girl has
insisted that shooting on her new blockbuster film Interlude be postponed due to heavy media coverage of the Sterling McClarin trial, where Harris will be a key witness against the defendant. It seems that the onetime film ingénue has officially moved up the ranks to diva status, given that she’s calling the shots with such Hollywood power players as director Joshua Cabot and the money men at United Studios,” the hostess finished with a knowing grin.
“Don’t pay any attention.”
Gia turned around, startled by Seth’s calm, gruff voice. He stood several feet inside the bedroom. He’d been stalking again. She hadn’t heard him come in, but he’d obviously just heard the incendiary bit on the cheesy entertainment-news show. She glanced over at him. He wore jeans and a simple gray T-shirt that showed off his muscular arms and skimmed his strong chest. He’d been even longer in the workout facility than she had. Had he grown even more carved, just from one rigorous workout? It seemed like it. His casual dress only emphasized how hard he was underneath, how essentially male.
How beautiful.
“At least they’re saying you’re off the radar,” he said quietly.
“And that I’m a power-hungry diva,” she added neutrally, turning her back to him and hitting the Off button on the remote. It figured, Seth had had to hear that piece of salacious gossip about her.
“You okay?” he asked.
She tossed the remote control device on the mattress.
“Are you asking because of what that twit just said on that show?” she asked.
“Not really, no. But I suppose it applies.”
She wasn’t looking at him, but she could tell by the distance of his deep voice, he’d stepped closer to the bed.
“Because that show and the millions of people who watch it share your opinion that movie stars are narcissistic, fame-starved idiots? Is that what you mean?” she asked, unable to keep the trace of bitterness from her tone.
“No,” he said. “But I can understand why you might think that, given what I said this morning.”
She rolled over on her opposite hip. The hint of regret in his deep voice made her curious.
“I know that ninety percent of that crap the entertainment news slings around is just that. Shit,” he said. “You don’t think I’m that shallow, do you? I was there when Madeline and Joshua told you about your scenes on Interlude being postponed, remember? I know how insulted you were that the decision was made without you. I know the last thing you wanted was to have the schedule thrown off because of your situation.”
“Not that what I thought made any difference,” she mumbled.
“Yeah. Well losing control of your life is another upset all together. Can I sit down?”
She glanced at him doubtfully when he pointed at the edge of the bed. After a pause, she nodded. He sat a foot or so away from where she lay on her side.