“Okay.” Her words have jealousy eating at my gut. And fuck that.
“It just happened.”
“You can kiss anyone you want, you know,” I say carefully. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“I know but…this is different for me. I’ve never…” She shakes her head.
I had no right to invite her here. I need to back off. Leave her alone. I’m not interested in being involved with a girl who thinks she can’t kiss her ex-boyfriend. So I have no idea why I ask, “What’s his hold on you?”
Standing, she shakes her head and turns away, blocking her face from my view. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” I say flatly.
She releases a humorless chuckle. “Better than an accomplished one, I guess.” She’s silent for a beat, and I wait, knowing she’s building to something, collecting her thoughts. Finally, she lets h
er gaze meet mine. “He proposed. After I got home from St. Louis.”
I blink. I’m not even sure what to do with that information. I’m not one of those guys who claims all women confound him. I like to think Janelle taught me the basics of understanding the female psyche. It’s one thing for Hanna to keep me secret from an ex. It’s quite another for us to have a secret fling when she has a fiancé.
“I told him I couldn’t,” she says.
I don’t like the relief I feel. “But you wanted to say yes.”
“I don’t know.” She worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “He told me to keep the ring. To give it time. He said he’d wait for me.”
Something knots in my stomach at that. “And do you want him to wait for you?”
“I shouldn’t, but I do.”
“Then I guess I only have one more question. Why are you here with me?”
She flicks her gaze to mine. “Because I wanted to say yes, and you remind me why I need to say no.”
Oh, damn. Fuck, fuck, damn.
I’m not even sure what she means by that, but I do know it should have me running in the opposite direction. Instead, I find myself gathering her against me and whispering, “Come to LA with me.”
This sweet virgin from Nowhere, Indiana, gave me one night, and now she owns me.
OPULENT. THAT’S the word for Nate’s house. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, soaring ceilings, walls decorated with paintings that would probably send Maggie into fits of envy.
I love looking at it, gawking at all the glitz, yet I can’t imagine living here. It would be like living in a museum. I’d rather have my tiny little rental house in New Hope with Lizzy.
“What do you think?” he asks me as we end our tour.
“It’s gorgeous. I’ve never seen anything like it.” By New Hope standards, my family is “rich.” But there’s New Hope rich, and there’s Hollywood Hills rich.
Nate sighs. “Yeah. I guess it is.”
“You don’t like it?” A strange question to ask a man about his own house.
He shrugs. “It’s a house.” Then he pulls me against his chest and crushes his mouth to mine in a kiss that has me forgetting my name. His hands find their way to my hips and ass.
“Well, isn’t this a cute picture?”
When I try to back away at the sound of a woman’s voice, Nate takes my shoulders and turns me around while still keeping me close. “Janelle,” he says. “I’d like you to meet my guest. Hanna, this is my sister, Janelle Crane.”
The second he says her name, I see her face, and my jaw comes unhinged at the petite raven-haired beauty in front of me. Maybe I should have known that Nate’s sister was actress Janelle Crane. He mentioned his mom was an actress the night we met, so it’s not much of a leap to think he might have an actress sister as well. If I kept up on those weekly gossip magazines like my mom, I’m sure I would have connected the dots.