“Hey, babe.”
At the sound of Ryan’s voice, Blue, who’d been sleeping beside her, lifted his head, pinned back his ears, and let out a teeth-baring growl that had Madison toying with the idea of commanding him to attack. Of course she wouldn’t do it, but that wasn’t to say she wasn’t tempted.
From a purely physical perspective, Ryan was as dreamy as they come. What with the way his sandy-blond hair caught the glinting rays of the sun, making it appear as though it’d been sprinkled with gold dust, the way his well-muscled legs strode purposefully toward her, the way his biceps popped under the strain of an arm loaded with Neiman Marcus shopping bags—it was easy to see why he’d single-handedly fueled the fantasies of so many teen girls (and most of their moms).
“You bring me a gift?” She lowered her sunglasses back to her nose. Sure, she was tired of him, but gifts were always appreciated and rarely returned.
He grinned his dazzling Ryan Hawthorne grin—the moneymaker, as he sometimes referred to it—and sorted through his collection of bags until he found the right one. “Did he just growl at me?” He cast a wary eye on Blue.
Madison watched as Blue leaped from the chair and trotted toward the house. Then she sat up straighter, crossed her legs at the shins, and dug through layers of soft white tissue before she unearthed a small square jewelry box at the bottom.
Hoops. Yet another pair of gold hoops. Only these were far prettier than most in her collection, mostly due to the little turquoise bits that adorned them. Madison traced her finger around the rims, approving of them far more than she’d let on.
She leaned in to plant a perfunctory kiss on his cheek, only to have him turn his head at the very last moment, claiming the kiss.
His lips parted, his tongue darted forward, as his hand rose to the back of her head and he buried his fingers deep in her hair, angling her face closer to his. “I missed you, babe.” He breathed the words into her neck, her hair, before finding her lips once again.
He pulled her closer, and then closer still. And when his hand fell to her breast, his fingers about to ease beneath her bikini top, she pressed her palm firmly against his chest and pushed him away. “Easy, tiger.” She kept her tone playful as she summoned all her will not to wipe her mouth on her towel. It wasn’t that Ryan was a bad kisser, but every kiss was the wrong kiss when it came from a person you could just barely tolerate. “I want to try on my new earrings before you get carried away.” She was hoping to distract him long enough that he’d forget where they’d left off.
Madison was convinced Ryan’s heartthrob status was due solely to the fact that not a single member of his adoring public would ever guess at the weird groans and
embarrassing sex faces he made during the act. But Ryan’s days as the reigning Teen King of prime-time TV were nearing an end. His show was on the verge of cancellation. The writers had run out of ideas, the plot had grown stale, and the ratings were falling—a death knell if she ever heard one. If Ryan’s agent didn’t book him something quick, preferably something bigger and better than the silly teen soap that had made him famous, he’d be officially declared a has-been by this time next year.
Aside from a handful of Teflon-coated, A-list elite who could survive a series of flops and still hold their fan base, the general rule in Hollywood was that you were only as good as your last project. The public was fickle—claiming their undying love and devotion one moment, while simultaneously looking for the next new face to adore.
The time was right to end things with Ryan. If the point of their relationship was to boost each other’s images, then Ryan was about to become a serious detriment. She couldn’t see a single reason to delay the inevitable.
“Gorgeous.” His eyes appeared to sweep across her face, yet his attention clearly drifted. Like he was looking inward rather than outward, like someone else had claimed a place in his memory.
“So, what else did you get me?” She studied him carefully, knowing there was nothing more. She was more interested in how he’d reply. Ryan was the kind of actor who relied heavily on the script. Improvisation was not one of his strengths.
His brows merged as though he’d forgotten where he was—or maybe who he was with?
Was it possible Ryan had grown as tired of her as she’d grown of him?
For the first time in a long time, he intrigued her.
“Uh, nothing,” he said, his voice distracted as he struggled to return to the present. “The rest is just some basics I needed to replace. Been carrying ’em around in my car, figured I’d bring ’em inside in case I end up staying the night.”
She nodded like she understood, and she did, just not in the way he intended. Ryan was hiding something. And while there was a part of her that couldn’t care less, the other part, the part that kept a tight vigil on her image and anything that might threaten it, was on full, red-flag alert.
“I was thinking we should go out tonight.” He acted as though the “going out” was a rare event, when they both knew it was the basis of their relationship. Being seen was imperative.
Instead of readily agreeing like she normally would, she leaned back, slowly, languidly, curling an arm around the back of her head, making her cleavage swell in a way he usually couldn’t resist. When the move barely registered, she knew Ryan either had been, or was about to be, a very bad boy. “I don’t know. . . .” She dragged out each word. “What did you have in mind?”
He rubbed his chin as though thinking it over, but his jiggling knee betrayed him. “Dinner at Nobu Malibu? We haven’t been in a while.”
Madison squinted, having no idea where he was leading. But there was something about the way he broached it, something so furtive and guilty, she knew right then she wouldn’t end things today. For the first time in their relationship, she wondered if maybe she wasn’t the only one playing this game.
“Hmmm . . . maybe . . .” She purred the words like a cat, uncrossed her legs slowly, seductively, before crossing them again, allowing one perfect thigh to slide against the other. Surely he’d see that. Surely he’d react.
“Whatever you want, babe.” His voice adopted the deeper tone she knew all too well, as he trained his focus on her. “Dinner can wait—but this—” He traced the tip of his index finger over the peak of her ribs into the valley of her smooth, taut abdomen until it was nudging beneath the band of her bikini bottom. “This is all I can think about.” He bent his head toward hers, as Madison closed her eyes, thought of a boy from a faraway place, and returned the kiss with the kind of fervor that surprised them both.
SEVENTEEN
GO HARD OR GO HOME
“Bro, you gonna set us up, or what?”