Make Me Yours (Bridgewater County 5)

CHAPTER ONE

Lacey

“Best sound ever,” I said to my assistant, Tessa, indicating the automatic door lock that had just thunked into place.

I settled back into the plush seat—just as comfortable as first class on the plane, but I was on the ground and almost home. What was a slog through LA traffic after a fourteen-hour flight? I sighed, leaned my head back.

“Even better than someone announcing your name for a walk down the red carpet?” Tessa teased as we settled in to wait for a family of five to finish loading their luggage into the SUV idling in front of us.

“Oh yeah. So much better,” I said, tilting my neck from side to side to work the kinks out. “You know I love my fans, but a two-week press junket is enough. So is the batch of paparazzi outside customs. And those rabid fans who don’t know a thing about me.” I pointed out the window at a bunch of star followers.

“Sounds like somebody needs a massage.”

While Tessa investigated the basket of magazines, chocolate and champagne sent by her office, I wearily watched the crowd outside. Undeterred by the tinted windows, my fans jostled elbow to elbow as they angled to capture me on their phones. I was a people-pleaser by nature, but I took petty satisfaction in the frustrated expressions of people who realized they weren’t getting anything through the glass. They wanted more from me and I wasn’t willing to give it. Not now. Not after the long flight from South Korea, not in my leggings and sweatshirt, my hair up in a sloppy bun. Not when all I wanted to do was crawl into bed for twelve hours.

Airport security finally showed up to clear the walkway. At the same time, the family in front of us finished stowing their luggage and piled into their vehicle. Our car started to move, which I took as my cue to let out a deep sigh and slump down even further. No cameras, no fans. I could be myself.

Tessa chuckled. “So, you want me to book it?”

I rubbed my forehead. “What? Sorry. I’m exhausted.” It was daylight, but I had no idea what time it was. All I knew was that I crossed the International Date Line and went back a day.

“The massage. Do you want me to arrange it? I can make a call and have that massage therapist you like meet us at your house.”

My head started to bob the automatic, expected response. Everybody knew being worked over by some big blond Viking with amazing hands was supposed to be the miracle cure to Los Angeles stress, but no. I couldn’t even count how many hours I’d spent being kneaded and rubbed since I’d ditched my small-town life as Lacey Leesworth in order to become rising star, Lacey Lee.

None of those massages had done a damn thing. Instead of nodding, I turned my head to look at Tessa, who was thumbing through a stack of tabloids balanced on her lap.

“No. I don’t need a massage. I need…” One of the tabloids distracted me and I sat up, reached for the tabloid. “Oh my God. Are they serious? A June wedding?”

Tessa quickly flipped the rag over, but it was too late. I laughed humorlessly and shook my head.

“I’d say I can’t believe this, but of course I can. I must have given a hundred interviews in South Korea alone, and all anybody wanted to talk about was my so-called love life.”

Love? Hah.

“You know how the media is,” she countered, rolling her eyes. Since she worked for a PR firm, she dealt with them twenty-four/seven. “They’re hungry for the next big love story. You’re the current sweetheart of TV and Chris is—uh, has the potential to be the next big swoony rock star.” Her voice changed when she spoke of Chris, the words filled with some doubt. “Of course, everyone wants the two of you together.”

Instead of calming me down, it made me grind my teeth. Any mention of Chris did that these days. “Yes, I get the media. I just…argh!” I waved my hands in the air. The gesture indicated all of my frustration with the media, the fans and even Chris.

Tessa winced and patted my leg. “You’re burned out. Anybody would be after filming and the press junket. No one imagined the Hunters series would be such a hit. Vampire romance still has a huge following, not only here in the US, but in the Asian market as well. You’ve been going and going at this pace for five years and know how it is. Let all this stuff go. Besides, it’s not like anyone believed you had Elvis’ secret baby last month.” She was using her familiar placating tone, which was probably the first thing they’d taught her in Celebrity Management 101.

That had been different. Elvis died before I was born. Chris, though, was alive and well—as far as I knew—and thriving in the press of our barely-real relationship.

“’All this stuff’, meaning all these lies?” I grabbed the magazine off her lap, lifted it up so I could see my face smiling from some red-carpet event. I recognized the red dress. Paris? Sydney? I couldn’t remember. A smaller picture of Chris was in a square in the right corner, big bold type screaming “Wedding Bells or Wedding Hell?” across the top. I dropped it back in Tessa’s lap, then stared out the window, watching LA pass by, yet at the same time seeing nothing at all.

“This is Hollywood, Lacey. You’re a TV star. Very little about your life is true. If the truth got out…”

Tessa trailed off ominously, shaking a genuine laugh from me. I shot her an amused glance.

“You say that like I have some kind of deep, dark secret when nothing could be farther from the truth. Like Elvis’ love child.” I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. “All I do is work and sleep. I couldn’t even think up half the things they say I do. My life has been an open book since my first deal, and the paparazzi helped themselves to everything before that. My real name isn’t even a secret.”

She gave me a look that said it all. She pitied me. Yeah, I had money and fame, but nothing else, and she knew it. She knew what it was really like to be a famous actress, and because of that, she was content to remain behind the scenes, anonymous to the fans and stalkers. When Tessa dropped me off, she’d go home to play tennis or go to the library. Maybe even go to the grocery store with no makeup on. Normal stuff. I hadn’t seen the inside of a grocery store in years; I couldn’t pick out my own produce without the paparazzi following me, snapping some horrible candid and putting it online and saying I was on a juice cleanse. God forbid I picked out my own tampons; an article about a miscarriage or a post about how the zit on my chin was obviously from PMS would surface the next day.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she countered. “But how do you think fans would react if they knew you and Chris weren’t their dream couple? Headlines aren’t made based on ‘casual dating’ and ‘we hit it off, but there’s nothing serious’.” Tessa air quoted in all the right places

.

I rolled my eyes, sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe they’d start reacting to my acting ability again instead of all this…nonsense. What do you think people would say if they knew Chris and I haven’t exchanged more than a single text during the past week?”

Tessa got a panicked look. “Don’t tell anybody that.”

I laughed at her expression. “Yeah, that’s what I mean. The truth would ruin my career, which is so ridiculous, I can’t even list all the ways. I hate this, Tessa. I don’t want people marrying me to Chris and I’m resentful of the PR team for pushing me to go along with this whole stupid charade while I was away.”

“Okay. Just hold on.” Tessa shuffled all the tabloids aside and angled to face me, tucking one leg beneath her. She had on skinny jeans with wedge sandals, a cute tank top with ruffles down the front. It was obvious she hadn’t been on a flight from Asia. “What’s really going on? You’re way more off than usual. If it’s burnout, we can set up a self-care retreat. Self-care is the big buzzword right now anyway. Your fans will go nuts with admiration and the press will run with that.”

“The press will start speculating that I’m carrying Chris’s baby. Or that I’m in rehab.”

I couldn’t decide which was worse—fake pregnancy or fake bulimia. Maybe I should go buy some tampons. That would settle one of those things.

Tessa opened her mouth, but then closed it with a rueful laugh. “Okay, you’ve got me there.”

“Mm-hmm. But a retreat does sound amazing.” Sighing, I tugged my hair out of the sloppy ponytail, smoothed it out and tied it back again. I’d been all around the world, yet I wanted to get away. Not to a jam-packed schedule full of meetings, interviews, release parties and red carpets. No, to somewhere quiet. No cameras. No phones. No connectivity.

Tessa looked genuinely concerned. We’d been together long enough that I knew she was actually worried about me, even if only because her job depended on my career remaining stable. The professional barrier kept us from being friends, but since she was the closest thing to one I had in LA—and the fact she’d signed a non-disclosure agreement not to share my secrets—I decided to confide in her.

“You’re right. It’s more than burnout. I’m lonely, Tessa. It’s just me when I’m home and it’s even worse when I’m touring. Please don’t tell me I have all these ‘adoring fans’.” I could air quote at key moments, too. “I don’t—well, I do want fans. Obviously. But I can’t be sustained by the fickle love of billions of strangers, especially since the person they’re really drawn to is a fictional character. A series of them.” I sighed, tugged at the string on my hoodie. “Oh, you know what I mean.”

Tessa nodded slowly, setting her dark hair swinging. “I think I do. So—what about Chris? Would it really be so bad to be more than casual with him?” At my dry look, she wrinkled her nose and laughed. “Okay, yeah, stupid question. He’s an arrogant, self-important mess.”

Not to mention a user, but I didn’t need to tell Tessa that. She was well aware of how my affiliation with Chris benefitted his career. Mine? Not so much. I was already the sweetheart of the big screen. Our so-called engagement was pure fiction, dreamed up by the PR company that represented both Chris and me.

I shrugged. “He’s…I don’t know. Chris just isn’t what I want.”

I wanted love, the sweet, simple, uncomplicated kind of love my sister had found. I wanted instant connection. I wanted a guy who wanted me more than anything else. Hot sex, too. Yeah, I wanted that with a guy who knew he was in bed with me, real Lacey.

What good was money and stardom if nobody wanted the real me? The woman, not the star? And Chris didn’t even know who the real me was. He didn’t care.