Trish Wylie – His L.A. Cinderella (страница 3)

‘Shame the box office didn’t feel the same way. But thank you.’ Her eyes narrowed momentarily. ‘Wait a second. You’re not Cassidy Malone as in Ryan and Malone?’

Cassidy’s gaze slid briefly to Will and then back. ‘A long time ago…’

‘Then the rumour is true? They picked up the option?’

Will nodded, and glanced around him as if it was a state secret. He even lowered his voice. ‘It’s not been announced yet, so—’

‘Oh, you don’t have to tell me, you idiot. How exciting!’

Suddenly Cassidy was much more interesting to her than before, and a matching set of European cheek kisses were bestowed on her before Cassidy could warn her of her cold.

‘So nice to meet you. Make him bring you to dinner. I have a million and one questions to ask about the Ryan and Malone years. Will thinks being enigmatic makes him more interesting.’

‘Not everyone likes their every move reported in the dailies.’

Still blinking in stunned amazement at having been kissed by one of the highest paid actresses on the globe, Cassidy found her attention caught by the drawl of Will’s newfound American twang. The words made her scowl in recrimination. He’d been many things back in the day, but cruel had never been one of them. The famous Angelique Warden had hardly had an easy time with the press in the last year.

But Angelique laughed huskily and batted his upper arm with her designer purse, pouting and rolling her eyes. ‘Yes, but it’s such a joy for the rest of us. Dinner. Saturday. Bring your partner. I’m going to learn all your darkest secrets.’

‘No, you’re not.’

‘I’ll ply her with alcohol if I have to.’ She winked at Cassidy for the second time and Cassidy was immediately charmed by her.

In fairness, if she plied the only Irish native on the planet who couldn’t hold her drink with alcohol then she would get everything she’d probably never wanted to hear. Half a glass of wine and Cassidy’s tongue tended to take on a life of its own.

‘No, you won’t. I need her lucid for the next few weeks.’

‘Was he always so serious?’

Cassidy looked at Will, found him staring at her with a disconcertingly unreadable expression, and her answer kind of popped out. ‘No. He wasn’t.’

He stared at her until she could feel her toes curling in her shoes.

So she bravely lifted her chin in challenge.

After what felt like a very long time, Angelique laughed musically. ‘Okay, then. Well, you two kids have fun. I can highly recommend the scallops. Saturday, Irish boy—you hear me?’

‘I hear you.’

He waved an arm to indicate Cassidy should sit back down, and she was glad of it. She really was starting to feel light-headed. Maybe she should have dragged herself out of bed for breakfast after all?

‘I’ll call on Saturday and tell her we can’t make it.’ He re-opened his menu. ‘I think we should start brainstorming tomorrow and get something down on paper over the weekend.’

That fast? Great. Now she felt nauseous as well.

Hiding partially behind her auburn hair as she lowered her chin to scan the menu, she cleared her throat and asked, ‘You have any ideas?’

‘A few.’

It was like pulling teeth. ‘Any you’d care to share?’

When she glanced at him she saw the slight upward pull on the corners of his mouth before he answered. ‘Not here, no.’

Cassidy’s gaze moved from side to side and she lowered her voice to a stage whisper. ‘Are they watching?’

‘They?’ His gaze rose, curiosity lifting his brows.

‘The script gremlins…’

There was a second of silence, and then a brief rumble of low laughter broke free. ‘Haven’t changed, have you?’

Oh, how little he knew.

They managed small talk after that. The latest movies Will’s company had produced, the differences in living in California compared to Ireland…They even segued from there to the weather. But she couldn’t help missing the ease they’d once had with each other. Angelique was right—Will had got serious with age. It made Cassidy feel like even more of an idiot. She couldn’t seem to manage a conversation without a wisecrack or teasing him the way she’d used to, and it added to her feeling of awkwardness. Then she hit rock bottom in the embarrassment stakes when he walked her back to the hotel.

The air really was thinner in California. And it really was incredibly warm. Food hadn’t got rid of her light-headedness. Her nose felt more blocked than ever, her throat hurt, and her voice was beginning to fade…

Then, back in the foyer of the beautiful hotel, surrounded by beautiful people in expensive clothes, Will turned to say goodbye and the world began to spin. The edges of her vision blurred—she swayed. And, as she had figuratively speaking so many years ago, Cassidy fell at his feet.

She came to with her head resting against Will’s hard chest, his warmth surrounding her. He must have sat her up. He had his arm around her. Blinking the world into focus, her eyes immediately sought his.

He was frowning. ‘What happened?’

‘If I had to guess, I’d say I fell down,’ she informed him dryly.

‘Are you sick?’

‘Bit of a cold. I spent the morning in bed.’

His mouth narrowed into a thin line as he held a glass of water to her lips. ‘You should have said something.’

Allowing the water to wash the dryness from her mouth and throat, she glanced around at the sea of interested bystanders and immediately felt colour rising in her cheeks. Great. The never-ending humiliation continued. It reminded her of that time in high school, before she’d had laser surgery, when she’d forgotten her glasses and got into the wrong car outside the school gates. She’d held a five-minute conversation with a complete stranger before she’d realised what she’d done…

Irritation sounding in her voice, she tried to push up on to her feet. ‘I’m good now, Will. Thanks. Let me up.’

But he held her in place. ‘Give it a minute.’

When he held the glass back to her mouth, her sense of mortification was raised several notches. She pushed his hand away. ‘Stop that. I can do it. I don’t need a minute.’

Taking the glass from him, she struggled anything but gracefully to her feet, splashing water onto her hand and the floor. Once she was upright, she swayed precariously. Will stepped forward—one hand removing the glass, one arm circling her waist as he calmly informed her, ‘That went well.’

Cassidy scowled at the grumbled words as he handed the glass to a hovering concierge before demanding, ‘Key card.’

‘What?’

‘Give me your key card.’ Lifting his free hand in front of her body, he waggled long fingers. ‘Hand it over. You’re going back to bed.’

‘I don’t think—’

‘Good. Run with that. Key card.’

While her brain tried to think up an argument against the new and not necessarily improved attitude he seemed to have acquired with age, her traitorous hand reached into her bag for the card. Apparently the best she could come up with in reply was, ‘I don’t remember you being this bossy.’

‘Comes with the territory in my job.’ His fingers closed around the card.

‘Can we get anything for the lady?’

Will nodded at the concierge’s question. ‘You could send up some chilled orange juice to room…?’

When he lifted his brows at Cassidy, she sighed. ‘Ten-twenty-eight.’

‘And send out to the nearest pharmacy for cold medicine of some kind.’

The concierge nodded. ‘Of course, sir.’

Completely out of nowhere, Will did the last thing she’d expected and bent at the waist, scooping her into his arms like some kind of caped superhero. The man would put his back out! She was a good twenty pounds over the weight she’d been the last time he’d pulled that stunt.

A part of her curled up and died even as her arm automatically circled his neck. ‘Put me down, Will. I can walk.’

As she whispered the words her gaze met that of several fascinated observers, and a couple of women who looked distinctly as if they were swooning. Now her cheeks were on fire. ‘Will, I’m serious! I’m too heavy.’

‘No, you’re not. Shut up, Cass.’

She wriggled, and felt her lunch rearrange itself inside her stomach, drawing a low moan from her lips. If she threw up in public she was taking the next plane home. It would serve Will Ryan right if she threw up over him!

He walked through the remainder of the foyer as if she weighed nothing, and then turned to hit the elevator button with his elbow. Adding even further to her nightmare, he then moved the hand at her waist and dropped his chin to frown at her body. ‘What are you wearing under that blouse?’

Oh. Dear. God.