A Blockbuster Proposal_The Trouble with Dating an Actor Page 6

  “You can’t just come into my—wait, get me? What do you mean get me?” She took a step back.

  Mark scanned the place. A maroon, navy, and green striped blanket covered the bed and two flat pillows. Several dark stains dotted the carpet, some of them bigger than his hand, and the picture on the wall tilted. Her suitcase was on a small stand near the bathroom. He slapped shut the lid and zipped it closed. He’d replace whatever they left behind. “You should be at the Ritz. This was a mistake.” He pounded the side of his fist against the wall. “A huge, stupid mistake. Come on, my car’s outside.”

  Allie planted her feet. “I’m not staying with George. I’d be afraid to sleep with him in the room.”

  Mark ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “That’s not what I mean. Kate is getting you a reservation of your own. A room all to yourself.”

  “But that’s a lot of money, and shouldn’t it go to helping Teens on Target or your Waters without Borders group?”

  Warmth filling his chest at her mention of Waters without Borders. Had she looked him up or did she just know that he’d founded the charity? His phone rang and he answered quickly. Perhaps Kate could convince Allie to leave this hole. “Kate? I need some good news.”

  “Well, it’s not coming from me. The Ritz is booked. Every hotel in the area is booked. There’s a convention this weekend.”

  Mark bit back a curse. He’d just have to take Allie home with him. The arrangement wasn’t ideal, but he had plenty of extra rooms. He tried not to get excited about having someone else—no, having Allie—in his home. Her cheerfulness would be a welcome addition … for the night. A welcome addition for the night. “Thanks for trying. Night.”

  He shoved his phone in his pocket. “Looks like you’re coming home with me.”

  Allie’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me? Do I know you?”

  Mark gritted his teeth. Dagnammit, she was right. He just felt like he knew her because there had been that connection, that sense of worlds colliding. But having a single woman spend the night in his home was not a good idea. His one defense when going back to custody court was that his life was stable—more stable than his ex’s, despite his travel schedule. “What about Anthony’s place? His wife will be there.”

  “The woman at the lunch who’s expecting a baby?”

  Hope sparked. If she felt comfortable around Leticia, this might just work. “Leticia—yeah.”

  She twisted the belt to her robe in her hands. “I guess that would be okay.”

  Mark closed most of the distance between them. “I’m so sorry about this.” He waved his hand around, indicating the water marks seeping down the wall and the strange stain on the curtains. Green? What stained green?

  Allie lifted her palms. “I’m kind of used to life not turning out—I’ve got horrible luck. But thank you so much for worrying about me. This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done.”

  Mark chuckled. “Surely not.”

  She nodded. “It’s true.”

  Mark reached out and touched her hand, warmth and electricity firing away. He liked Allie—furthermore, he respected her for smiling through a bad situation. Jasmine would have thrown a fit and dressed him down like a drill sergeant with a hangover. Actually, she probably would’ve had a horrific hangover and taken it out on him.

  He took just a moment to search her eyes, looking for that element of falsity that would betray her optimism as an act. Every actress he’d ever played across from had a part of them locked away. He did it too. Locking away emotions was the key to taking a passionate moment, like an on-screen kiss with a beautiful woman, and manipulate the action into what the director wanted. Allie’s eyes were like plantation doors thrown open—he could see right into her heart.

  His chest tightened. She had to learn to close those doors or she was going to get hurt. He couldn’t do much about that now, but he could get her to a safe location and protect her in the process. “Time to go.”

  He checked through the curtains to make sure the three men were where he’d left them. They were, so he grabbed her hand and threw open the door.

  “I’m in my slippers,” Allie protested.

  “I’ll buy you new ones.” He dragged her across the parking lot and deposited her in his car.

  “But—”

  Mark shut the door on her protest. He nodded to the guys watching the exchange with too much interest and climbed behind the wheel. Feeling as though he’d broken the crown jewels out of the safe, he fired up the engine, floored the gas pedal, and raced away.

  “I promise I’m going to make this right for you. Anthony’s place is like a castle—I think it actually has a turret—is that what those round things on the corners are called?” He kept his hands gripping the wheel as if he were in a high-speed chase. He glanced over to catch Allie rubbing her lips together.

  “They sure are.” She sighed.

  “I’m so sorry. Again—had I known you’d end up in that—”

  Allie placed her petite hand on his arm. “Stop apologizing. It’s fine. I’m fine. We’re all fine here.”

  “Then why the sigh?”

  She removed her hand and turned towards the window so he couldn’t see her face clearly. He didn’t like the distance she’d placed between them. Didn’t like it at all.

  “I’m going to wake up tomorrow and this is all going to be a dream.” Her fingers graced the door handle as if memorizing the feel of the leather lacing.

  “More like a nightmare,” Mark quipped. And thinking of this innocent, darling woman stranded in that crap hole was a nightmare.

  Allie chuckled. “Maybe for you. But I don’t usually eat lunch with movie stars and spend the night at a baseball player’s house. I don’t ride in cars with seat warmers or cameras or chrome. And I—” She bit her lip and looked down at her hands. “I don’t have someone caring about where I am. This whole day and night has been wonderful, thank you.”

  The guilt that had driven Mark for the last hour grew twelve sizes. He’d placed her in physical danger and she thanked him. He stopped at a light and considered Allie. “You’re really not angry?”

  “Angry? Today will be impossible to top.”

  This woman deserved so much better than what she’d been handed in life. “Oh, I’ll top it.” His hand found hers and he gently squeezed. Once he’d gotten a hold of her, he wasn’t sure if he could let go. Her skin was silky against his, sending slow, loopy waves of wanting through his lower belly.

  Allie squeezed back before pulling away and folding her hands in her lap.

  Mark shook off the desire and stared at the road. The light changed and they were soon winding their way through the high-end, gated community to Anthony’s front door.

  Chapter 7

  Allie slowly came into consciousness. The mattress was so soft she had a hard time getting out of bed. At least her own secondhand mattress gave her a good excuse to get up in the morning: lower back pain.

  Leticia and Anthony had met her and Mark at the door last night. They wore matching pajamas and huge smiles—as if an unexpected overnight guest wasn’t an inconvenience.

  Looking around at the cream-colored walls and white trim, the giant sleigh bed, and the ornate dresser, Allie doubted the arrival of a woman in a moth-eaten bathrobe and threadbare slippers was all that special in their lives, but they were gracious nonetheless.

  Leticia whisked her away from Mark before she had a chance to say good night. A shame. She’d enjoyed talking to him on the ride over. The way he looked at her, like she was just a normal person and wasn’t a giant step away from his kind, was nice. He may not see the differences between their lives, but she certainly could.

  Perhaps his obtuseness was because he hadn’t been to the diner or walked her neighborhood. He treated her like she was special. He believed she was no different than him. But she was.

  She knew it.

  The rest of the world knew it.

  Mark was just a nice enough guy that he di
dn’t see social levels. She liked that about him. Really liked that. If he ever did come to the diner, he’d probably sit down with Jack and talk baseball, or ask Selina about José, or even spend time with José while he colored in the corner booth.

  She scrubbed at her face to force herself awake. Mark was not coming into the diner anytime soon. Mark had probably gone home—happy she was someone else’s problem this morning. Fighting the sense of loss, she got up to get ready.

  The shower was a whole new experience since the water sprinkled down from above like a gentle rain. The bathroom was stocked with beautiful-smelling soaps, lotions, and body oils, all coordinating in scent—magnolias. Quickly towel drying her hair and putting on her second-best pair of jeans and a peasant shirt, Allie went in search of her hosts.

  She found them in the kitchen. Leticia was sitting at the bar, slicing strawberries, and Anthony was making waffles, biscuits and gravy, and sausage on the other side. They made the perfect picture of domestic bliss, touching at every opportunity and teasing one another while they worked.

  “Morning.” She waited in the doorway, uncertain and shy like a kid on the first day of school.

  Leticia waved her into the room. “Buenos días.” The words rolled off her tongue like silver bells. She motioned for Allie to take seat next to her. “Do you like waffles?”

  “You bet.” Waffles were on the menu at the diner. However, diner waffles didn’t look at all like these golden-brown, crispy beauties covered in whipped cream and fruit.

  “How’d you sleep?” asked Anthony.

  “Like a princess. Thanks for taking me in.” A princess, she mused. Living in a place like this could sure make a girl feel like one. In time, she might actually believe she wasn’t cursed with bad luck. Except that, for her, the ball was officially over.

  “Me too,” said Mark as he waltzed in.

  “You’re here.” The burst of happiness she felt at seeing him showed on her face, and she didn’t care. She’d thought he was gone and he appeared out of nowhere. The fairy tale continues.

  Mark was much more comfortable being here than Allie. He stretched his arms above his head, giving Allie a peek at his flat stomach. Flushed and heady with the attraction swirling inside, she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away. Mark caught her looking, and a slow, infectious smile spread across his lips. Now that she was looking at them, those lips were pretty nicely formed too.

  “We’re glad to have y’all,” replied Anthony. “Help yourselves.”

  He waved the spatula over the counter, where platters full of food, bowls of fruit, a stack of waffles, and a chalice of orange juice waited.

  “This is wonderful. You didn’t have to go to so much trouble on my account.” Allie picked up a plate.

  “Anthony loves to cook. We both grew up in large families, and with my family in Peru and his on the coast, we miss having big breakfasts.”

  “I can come over every Sunday if you’re making biscuits and gravy,” joked Mark. He gave Anthony a shove.

  “Please do,” Leticia replied. “You too, Allie. We’d love to have you again.”

  Allie selected a waffle. “That would be lovely, thank you.” Where had that come from? Lovely? She didn’t use flouncy words like that. Princess syndrome was kicking in.

  “Let me help you with that.” Mark put a hearty dollop of whipped cream on her waffle.

  Allie laughed. “Thanks, but I like a little waffle with my whipped cream.” She went to take the spoon from him to scoop off at least half the whipped cream, but he didn’t remove his hand and she ended up wrapping her fingers around his. His chest brushed against her back and she fought the urge to lean against him. Letting go, she set her plate on the counter before she dropped it.

  Mark shifted and his chest brushed against her shoulder, making her heart jolt. “Here, we’ll do this.” He spooned berries, peaches, and banana slices on top and then added another waffle. “Better?”

  Allie stared at the odd sandwich that was almost as appetizing as the man who created it. She bumped him with her shoulder. “You know what? I think it is.”

  They gathered around the table and said grace before digging in.

  “How are you doing, Leticia?” Mark asked, pointing his fork to her basketball of a tummy.

  “I’m looking forward to sleeping on my stomach again—I can tell you that.” Leticia popped a blueberry in her mouth.

  “Like you’re going to sleep once the baby’s here. I didn’t sleep for the whole first year after Chloe was born.”

  Leticia coughed on her blueberry. Anthony took her hand, moving his thumb back and forth across her knuckles.

  Allie turned from the tender scene, focusing instead on her breakfast. Mark had mentioned he had a daughter and she could probably find out all about the girl with one quick Google search. But she kind of liked getting to hear about her through Mark—the information would be intimate and personal.

  She momentarily wondered if the disclaimer statement she’d signed yesterday applied to this morning too. Not that it mattered to her if the agreement held or not, because she wasn’t the type to go running to the press. But Mark mentioning his daughter in such a casual way did matter to her, because it showed he trusted her—at least a little bit—like a friend. She tucked the thought of being friends with Mark into a side pocket so she could pull it out and examine it later. Being friends with the superstar was an intriguing concept. Not because such a friendship would mean seat warmers and scented body soaps, but because friends watched out for one another. He’d done that last night and she vowed to return the favor by guarding his privacy.

  Leticia sank in her chair. “I hadn’t thought about not sleeping when she was here.”

  Allie didn’t like the look of discouragement on her beautiful face. “Have you thought about a nursery?” She hoped to focus on the fun parts of having a baby.

  “We did.” Anthony nodded to Leticia for her to explain as he gathered up a third of the sausage from the serving dish. He probably had to eat a lot of protein, being an athlete and all. Allie checked Mark’s plate and saw just as much meat. She bit her cheek at the thought of him eating to feed his muscles. She really needed to stop thinking about those.

  “Do you want to see it?” Leticia asked hopefully.

  Allie nodded. Her hand went to her stomach. “I think I’m done here. I shouldn’t have attempted Mark’s waffle tower.” They all chuckled.

  Mark’s touched her elbow and his laugh lines appeared. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  “Ooooooh.” Allie hugged her middle and bent forward. “Give me at least four hours.”

  “You got it.” He winked.

  Was he kidding? Surely he wasn’t suggesting they would still be together in four hours. That was just plain silly … and impossible … and absolutely wonderful.

  “Go on with ya,” Anthony encouraged. “We’ll take care of clean up.”

  “Thanks, love.” Leticia kissed his cheek and motioned for Allie to follow her down the hallway. Allie did, her feet moving away from Mark but her mind mulling over his comment. He must have been joking.

  Leticia opened the door and motioned for Allie to go in first.

  Two steps in, Allie was accosted by the dish-glove yellow walls and the neon blue carpet. She stared at the floor. The carpet was actually blue. Whaaaat? The body of a giraffe covered one wall, the neck and head cut off, like the artist had forgotten what he was doing and up and left in the middle of painting. An orange and green blanket hung over the edge of the crib fitted with dark purple sheets.

  “We hired Hugo Francois to do the design.” Leticia turned in a circle in the middle of the room, a slight frown marring her model-perfect features.

  Was he high?

  “He’s done nurseries for Will Smith and Tom Brady,” she added.

  “You mean you didn’t pick any of this?” Allie asked to be sure. She didn’t want to hurt Leticia’s feelings, but dang. The room was ugly.

  “I
didn’t lift a finger. Hugo did all the work.” Her perfect brows drew together.

  What a relief. The room’s psychedelic motif didn’t match the rest of the house. The poor baby would have nightmares, or grow up to be a diabolical scientist or a circus clown. “So he dictated the colors … and … and you hate it, don’t you.”

  “I don’t love it,” she replied diplomatically.

  Sign this woman up for the UN. Allie laughed, which made Leticia laugh too.

  In the middle of her laughter, Leticia started to cry. Soon, she was laughing and crying at the same time. “Everyone raved about what a genius he is—I didn’t dare tell them he’s crazy.” She continued to blot at her dripping mascara.

  “Here, use this.” Allie handed her the orange blanket.

  Leticia hesitated.

  “You can’t make it any worse.” They laughed again and Leticia swiped a large black mark across the middle of the quilt.

  Allie ran her hand over the walnut wood. “This is a beautiful crib, though.”

  “That’s my favorite part.” Leticia stepped beside her.

  “Close your eyes and picture a blanket to go in this crib.”

  Leticia did so.

  “What color is the blanket?”

  “Mint green.” A note of hope lit her response.

  “There you go—you need that mint-green blanket.”

  “I don’t know.” She looked around. “Baby Magazine is coming to take pictures in three weeks. They’re expecting Hugo’s work.”

  “Honey—nobody is expecting this.” Allie twirled her finger by her temple.

  Leticia held her stomach as she laughed. “It’s awful.”

  “I know!” Allie swiped at the corner of her eye. “Let’s get out of here.” She shooed the still chuckling Leticia out. “We’ll just shut the door and you can have Hugo arrested for defacing your home.”

  Leticia giggled. “A headless giraffe—really?”

  “I heard animal prints are in this year,” joked Allie, which had them both holding their sides.

  They entered the kitchen like that and found Anthony wiping down the waffle iron. He did a double take. Crossing the room quickly, he pulled Leticia into his arms. “It’s good to hear you laugh.”