Catch a Falling Star (In Love in the Limelight Book 3) Read online

  Wendy could feel herself sinking back into him as he took her by the hips and eased her against him.

  He felt so good, so easy, so right. But everything was off-balance and so messed up. “Colin,” she managed to say as he drove her batty, “I meant what I said to the reporters—I need a nap. By myself.”

  He stepped away from her and looked down into her eyes. “Okay.” He brushed a finger along her cheek. “Grab your stuff.”

  Wendy followed him upstairs where he led her into a bedroom. But she recognized the dresser she'd ransacked earlier. “This is your room.”

  “I know. But you have to stay in here.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Wait,” he rushed to say. “I don't mean that you have to sleep in here. But the media's going to be all over us. If they manage to see through a crack in the blinds, we don't want them wondering why you keep going into a different bedroom the whole time you're here. If you get caught, you'll get caught in my room. You can sneak into your own bed down the hall at night, after lights out.”

  Wendy nodded. Then she smiled. “Good thinking. You don't have your own bathroom?”

  “One bathroom up here so we'll share. Cool?”

  “Sure.” Wendy tossed her pack on the bed. The already-made bed. Colin made his bed before he went running at five in the morning. And the bathroom downstairs had been spic and span. The whole house was in pretty nice shape. Old, for sure. Peeling, crumbling, yes. But clean and neat. At least she wouldn't be living in a smelly frat house atmosphere for the next three weeks. She smiled again.

  “What?”

  “You and Lola and The New York Giants,” she said, looking down at the blue comforter with the tell-tale red and white logo emblazoned on it.

  Colin nodded. “Yeah. When we were growing up, our mom was—still is—a Cowboys fan. So Lola decided when she was seven to become the world's biggest Giants fan. And I did everything Lola did. So … Go Big Blue.”

  Wendy looked at him, a crease between her brows.

  “The Cowboys and the Giants are arch enemies,” he explained.

  She rolled her eyes. “You mean rivals? Colin, I'm not a complete moron about sports. And I know the Cowboys and the Giants are rivals.”

  “Sorry,” he said, pulling back with a scowl. “But you looked confused.”

  “Not about that. About Charlotte. She's always so wonderful, especially with the kids. And she and Lola seem to really get along. Lola doesn't ever talk about their history, but I guess it was rocky.”

  “Uh ...”

  She looked to him quickly. “No, Colin. Sorry. I'm not trying to dig out any of Lola's secrets. I was just thinking how lucky she was to have you when she was growing up. It must have been really nice, especially if things were tough between her and Charlotte.”

  Colin took a step back. “Yeah … I don't know if Lola would have married Arlen when she did if Mom hadn't swallowed her pride and gone out to L.A. last summer. It's like she suddenly decided to become Donna Reed after a lifetime of Joan Crawford.”

  Wendy nodded, trying not to feel the slightest chill at how Colin always seemed to distance himself, like, geographically put space between them, if she got too close. Really close. Close close. Not naked-sweaty-make-me-scream-out-your-name-close, but telling-someone-the name-of-your-first-teddy-bear-close.

  She cleared her throat. “The other room?”

  “This way.” He led her past the bathroom to a softly lit room with baby blue walls and a worn flowered bedspread that looked like it came from the seventies. “My parents stay in here when they visit. You can sleep in here, but only after lights out. For now, you can nap in my bed. I won't bug you.”

  Wendy leaned against the door jamb. “Thanks, Colin.”

  He nodded. “I'll turn on the AC up here. Sleep tight.” And with that, he headed downstairs.

  Wendy made her way back to Colin's room and slipped off her jeans. She peeled back the covers and collapsed into bed wearing panties and Colin's shirt. Snuggling under the soft sheets, she felt cocooned as she sunk into a sound sleep.

  Colin stretched his neck as he walked into the kitchen to make a vat of high octane coffee. As he stood there waiting for the liquid crack to perk, he thought again about how she'd thrown her pack onto the bed. And he felt that same echoey feeling in his gut. That pack. That small pack. She hadn't intended to stay. Whatever games she was playing, they were about her, her career, her concerns. Her. They weren't about him.

  She was here, but it wasn't really about him. Wendy was curled up in his bed one floor above him. And it was a pretty small house. But it wasn't about him.

  God, he loved kissing her. The woman completely lost herself in the moment and made him get lost, too. And it felt good to let go, if even for a few seconds. But could there be more than a few seconds while she was here? Would he really break her in two if he ever truly got a hold of her? He wanted to, that was for damn sure. Get a hold of her. Not break her in two. He definitely didn't want to do that. Wendy was too precious a commodity.

  Colin needed her. Big time. He hadn't needed her yesterday. A few hours ago, everything had been on track and going according to plan. But her little stunt had shot everything to hell. Her off-the-cuff announcement and all its repercussions could obliterate everything. He needed to start on damage control—fast. And she was going to help fix what she'd wrecked.

  Wendy thought she needed to convince the media and her fans that she loved Colin. But it was a lot more close to the artery than that. Colin had spent the last year convincing all the right people that he was a safe bet to launch The Dorm. But Wendy just announced to every single one of them that Colin was not the man he purported to be. Not entirely. Hiding a love affair with one of Hollywood's biggest stars? That was huge, as far as omissions went.

  But if while Wendy was here, she could prove how good she was for the community, without a hint of scandal, he and The Dorm might survive.

  The coffee finished brewing and Colin poured himself a giant mug of the stuff.

  * * * * *

  When Wendy woke up, she found herself twisted in the sheets, yet the whole semi-exposed mess of her was draped with a summery blanket. Some sort of afghan knitted with lightweight yarn. And it was pastel. Was it a baby blanket? It was so worn and soft it must be old. Was it Colin's baby blanket? Like, from when he was a baby? Did Super-Coach Colin Scott have his baby binky ready to hand? Was that adorable or really serial-killer weird? And the blasted thing fit over the curled-up Wendy. Well, heck. No wonder he was always calling her so tiny and skinny if she fit under his baby blanky.

  Wendy yawned and looked around. She was tucked away upstairs but the house felt empty.

  “Colin?” she called.

  Nothing.

  “Colin?”

  Nothing.

  Wendy got up and wrapped the blanket around her waist before she went looking for him through the house.

  Hm. He didn't seem to be around.

  Wendy tip-toed through the comfortable, quiet rooms, but she was alone and only a few of the media folks lingered outside, where the sun beat down. But luckily, it was comfortably cool inside. Colin had put the air conditioning on all throughout the house. Had he done it for her? Coach Scott didn't seem like the type to leave the AC on when he wasn't home.

  But where the by-jingo was he? She let her eyes wander around his living room, as if he might be hiding under an end table. The furniture was old and thoroughly scuffed, like she was looking at a living room from a show set thirty years ago. Pictures dotted the pale walls. Pictures of Lola, his parents, his students. Pictures from when he was a kid, from when he was in high school, from when he was in college. Whenever Colin himself was in a shot, he was surrounded by lots of smiling people who looked for the world like they loved him. Like everyone loved everyone.

  She drifted through the rooms downstairs, telling herself she wasn't trying to soak in the homey feel of the place. No, not at all. She was looking for a clue to hi
s whereabouts, that was it. But she didn't find a note or anything helpful anywhere.

  Gone. What kind of trouble was he causing? Wendy was sure he was up to no good.

  She went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of grocery store water. She took a few sips, turning around the kitchen, looking for her cell phone. Time to get back in touch with her team. She'd been incommunicado since the big reveal last night. But that was okay. Her team worked for her, not the other way around. Now she needed them to clear her schedule for the next three weeks.

  Wendy felt a surge of excitement. She had the next three weeks off. Off from being The Great Wendy Hunter. For twenty-one days, she just had to be her, and to be mad about Colin Scott. She'd have to sell the public a side of Wendy Hunter they'd never seen. She hoped that Wendy unplugged would be good enough to pass muster with her fans. Not to mention with Colin Scott.

  * * * * *

  When Colin got home, Wendy was sitting at his kitchen table, hooked into her phone with the obsession of a D&D junkie. Plain white tee, cut-off jean shorts, little white sneaks kicked up and resting on his kitchen table. An All-American girl, his Wendy. But he had the feeling that her simple little outfit cost as much as—

  “Stop it.”

  “What?” Colin squawked. Damn. The woman hadn't even looked up from her phone.

  “I can feel you judging me from here, so stop. What? Do I look too slutty? Not slutty enough? Too bad. Deal with my awesomeness.”

  Okay. What could he say? She caught him.

  She spoke up again, still looking at her phone. “Five hours and 17 minutes by car, with no traffic.”

  “What?” Colin was feeling all flummoxed by her cool composure. She seemed in total command, even though when last he'd seen her, she'd been curled up in his bed, cute as a baby possum. “What are you talking about?”

  “That's how far it is from here to St. Jude in Memphis.” Her eyes met his. “We'll say I snuck into town to see you whenever I was out here for hospital stuff. Maybe you should google them with my name and then judge me about that.”

  An image flashed into his head. He remembered seeing her on a commercial once, for the Children's Research Hospital. She contributed, she donated, she worked with them. She spent her money on sick kids. Somebody else's sick kids.

  God, he was such an asshole. He really was.

  “I can't,” he said, slapping her feet off his table. “I'm way too busy dealing with your awesomeness. But at least I'll have a lot of help tonight.”

  Wendy sent him a steady, icy look. “What do you mean?”

  “Friday night. Everyone knows that's fish fry in Rocheforte. You're in luck to be here because Katy Biel's Pantry does the best damn fish fry this side of the Rockies. And you're hosting tonight for all the players. Every single one. To thank them for having your back this morning.”

  “Why do you say it like that?” Wendy leaned forward, her expression open and sweet. “With such a snarky, in-your-face attitude, like I'm not going to enjoy doing exactly that?”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes. I mean, I am going to enjoy thanking them all.”

  “And meeting them? And talking to them?”

  “Of course. It's just ...”

  Colin jumped on her hesitation. “Just what?”

  “Well,” Wendy said, “what exactly is a fish fry? I mean, do I have to catch the fish first? Then do that thing with a knife where I cut the insides out?”

  Colin couldn't hold back the smile. “No, Wendy. You just have to eat the fish. And don't worry—it's all caught and prepared and cooked for you. And there'll be French fries and cole slaw. You have to eat those, too.”

  “Fried fish, french fries, and cole slaw,” she repeated. “I can't eat any of that stuff.”

  “Allergies? Heart condition?”

  “No,” Wendy answered, standing up. She swept a hand down her body. “I've got to keep myself tiny and bony.”

  “You are going to eat Miss Katy's fish fry and you are going to love it and you are going to wax on and on about how it's the greatest food you've ever had.”

  Wendy opened her mouth to protest but Colin leaned into her space and made her forget what she was going to say.

  “We can work it all off later if you want,” he murmured into her ear. “I promise.”

  Wendy shivered. “So that's your plan, is it? Keep feeding me so that I have to work it off with oodles of sex with you or else I lose the figure that could bankroll a small country?”

  Colin pulled back and laughed. “Hey, if you'd rather work it off on the bike or the treadmill, be my guest. All the gym stuff is on the storm porch and ready to go.”

  “So am I,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Ready to go, that is. What time is this fish fry?”

  “Sit down,” Colin said. “It's not for two hours yet, and you have a lot to learn.”

  She sat. “Hit me with it. Memorizing lots of stuff perfectly then making everyone believe it is my stock-in-trade.”

  Ninety-eight minutes later, Colin was really hoping their ploy would work and that Wendy was as good as she claimed. But she must be. Lola trusted her to do her job and the first season of Off the Beaten Path had been a hit. Arlen acted with her almost every day during production, and he absolutely loved her. And she had two Emmys for fuck's sake. She could play the role of his secret lover. She could. This would be fine. Everything would be fine.

  But just to make sure, Colin hadn't let up on the briefing and quizzing in the kitchen or in the car. But now that Miss Katy's loomed large through his windshield, he got quiet. His heart raced as he pulled into the parking lot. He'd had to fill Wendy's head with the intel she would have gleaned from their “stolen visits” over the months. Things she would have learned from pillow talk or from cozy chats over breakfast and dinner.

  And that was another reason he'd had to keep talking, questioning, demanding. If he'd shut up for even a second in the kitchen … God … all he'd wanted to do was reach across the table and take her hand. And that would have been it. In seconds, they would have been—

  “Okay!” Colin yanked the parking brake then clapped his hands together in one loud smack. “Let's do this.” He looked over at Wendy to see her looking spooked. “It'll be okay,” he assured her.

  “I know,” she said. “So stop acting like such a nervous Nellie. Why do men get so loud when they get nervous? Just chill.”

  Colin watched as she took a deep breath and tossed her molasses hair with a flick of her head. She was morphing into THE Wendy Hunter.

  “Uh-uh,” he said quietly, turning to her.

  “What?”

  “Don't get all press-ready. Just act like you're on a normal date.”

  “Colin, that is press-ready.”

  Colin shook his head. “No, I mean normal-normal. Did you ever go on dates in high school? Before you were famous?”

  “Sure.”

  “Like that. All excited to be out of the house, away from your family. You and your date about to go see all of your friends. Can you remember that feeling?”

  Wendy smiled. “I remember.”

  “Good. You're Wendy, and I'm Coach. We need to be down-to-earth. Not Hollywood.”

  “No way. If I don't get to be me, then you don't get to be you. I'm Wendy and you're Colin. Wendy and Colin. Simple.”

  Colin looked at her for a few seconds in the confinement of the truck cab. Wendy and Colin. Nothing simple about that. “Right,” he agreed anyway. “Wendy and Colin.”

  “Good. We're set. But please, don't let the cameras and reporters rattle you. Totally ignore them. Like they're catcallers from a rival team at an away game.”

  Colin pulled back his head and gave her a once-over. “Nice analogy. I'm impressed.”

  “Thanks.” And a smile broke across her face like sunshine beaming through maple leaves.

  “And one more thing.”

  “Yeah?”

  He leaned in and kissed her softly, lightly running his hand along her
jaw. His mouth opened enough that he took her top lip between his two lips but no more. No more. Oh, boy ...

  When he ended the kiss, she opened her eyes. And God, they were so misty and dreamy and downright addled.

  “I had to do that,” he rushed to say in a hasty whisper. “They're all waiting for us and they have to believe this. So I had to kiss you before we get out of the car, like it's what we do all the time.”

  “Mmmm ...” she agreed, and swept him right into another kiss.

  Even as he pulled back, trying to get his bearings, he felt his fingers tangle in her hair. “We have to go in there. Don't pull me under.”

  Wendy's eyes found his. “But I don't do it on purpose.”

  “I know,” he whispered. “But this time, you have to NOT do it on purpose. I'm counting on you, two-time Emmy-winner.”

  She gave him a giant smile. “Okay, I'll—”

  And he kissed her again.

  Then Wendy pulled away, resting her hands on his shoulders. Like the kiss hadn't melted her brain at all. “Okay, let's go meet the team,” she chirped, leaning in to give him another quick kiss on the lips. Then another. “Okay. Let's go.” She swung away from him to her door.

  “I'll come around,” he said.

  “No way,” she laughed, opening the door. “I can get out of a truck myself, thank you very much.” And she jumped down to the gravel.

  “Well, you're as nimble as a mountain goat,” he said, coming around the front of the truck and taking her hand.

  “I know.”

  The restaurant had been closed for their special event and the media had been cordoned off. As Wendy crunched her way across the parking lot, she turned to the flashes and the shouted questions.

  “This is going to be so much fun,” she told them. “I'm finally going to meet all the wonderful people Colin's been telling me about for months.” Sparkling smile. “I can't wait.” And with one more gleeful grin, she and Colin turned away from the swarm of paparazzi and headed towards the big wooden door to Katy's.