“I really didn’t mean to insult you earlier, Gia,” he said, his hoarse voice just above a whisper. “Do we have to agree on everything in order to—”
“Have meaningless sex?” she finished for him as calmly as she could muster, looking up.
They faced off, the din of the restaurant fading to distant background noise.
“I was just being honest by saying I’ve never met an actress I thought wouldn’t be more trouble than pleasure to get involved with.”
“Including me.”
“That’s the whole point, isn’t it? You are different. I clearly can’t abide by that rule when it comes to you.” He glanced around tensely, assuring himself no one was listening. “And don’t act like this is all on me, Gia.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like I said yesterday, you had my number two years ago. Why didn’t you call me? This isn’t the 1950s. Women call men all the time. Did your not calling have anything to do with the fact that starting a relationship would have broken your career focus at that point in time? You’ve skyrocketed to fame. I admire your single-minded ambition, but I don’t think having someone like me hanging on your arm at every turn would have served your purpose very well.”
“You would hardly hang on my arm,” she snapped, finding the idea of a clutching, insecure Seth ridiculous. She met his solemn stare and swallowed back her flash of irritation.
It wasn’t as cut-and-dried as he was making it sound, but there was some truth to what he said. Gia had always been a planner. If you didn’t set goals, it was hard to focus on the desired outcome. Things that didn’t blend with her goals—things like Sterling McClarin or her off-the-charts attraction to a gorgeous, blatantly independent man like Seth—tended to sidetrack that focus.
Still . . .
“It would have made a difference if you’d contacted me after that night. I wanted it,” she said honestly.
“Yeah. But not enough to potentially screw up your carefully made plans and call me yourself.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a hand, stilling her. “I’m not mad about it. I understand. I’m just pointing out that we both have histories. We both have reasons to be wary about this. I’ve learned that a Hollywood relationship is a hell of a lot more complicated than most people could even begin to imagine. You learned early on from your mom that you were never going to let a man sidetrack your career.”
It was like he’d applied a mild shock to her skin. She stared at him, tingling, left stunned that he recalled that small detail from the night they’d spent together. His words replayed in her head.
“Is that what you really think? That I didn’t try to contact you, because I didn’t want to repeat my mother’s mistakes?” she breathed out, amazed. Unsettled.
Disturbed.
Was he right?
“When’s the last time you were in a serious relationship?” he asked quietly.
“I . . . I’ve been in plenty,” she sputtered.
“Really? The press isn’t doing its work for once? You’ve hidden that from your adoring public?”
“I assume that means you’re one who’s checking?” she challenged.
He threw her a dark look that somehow conveyed her attempt at sidetracking him was beneath her. Damn. She was a glass surface to him. It wasn’t as if she was lying or anything, it was just that she was a little worried he was right. Sort of. She’d had two involvements with men in the past couple of years that lasted more than six months, which was her record for relationship length. The problem for Gia was that she was always so busy. She seemed to match up with men who initially seemed comfortable and secure with her hectic schedule but in reality were just taking advantage of the fact that she wasn’t around enou
gh to interfere with their typical tomcatting activities.
God. She hadn’t matured a bit since catching that moronic rock star Tommy Valian in bed with another woman and whining about it to Seth.
She exhaled, feeling drained suddenly.
“Yeah,” he said, as if he’d noticed she had finally gotten what he was trying to convey. “It’s complicated,” he told her pointedly, reaching for his wallet. He dropped some bills on the check resting on the table and met her stare again, his gaze unflinching. “The fact that I want you, though? That’s as simple as it comes.”
* * *
Losing several hours because of the time zones, they reached the Shawnee National Forest in the afternoon of a cool, brilliantly sunny day. Seth drove the last leg of the trip with familiar ease. They passed St. Louis and finally were traversing a narrow, twisted country road that meandered through hills and forest. Gia didn’t speak for the whole forty-five minutes before they came to a halt, awed by the beauty of the rolling land and woods decked out in brilliant hues of yellow, orange and vivid red. It was a shock to her city eyes, but a wonderful one. She lowered her window all the way and inhaled deeply of the crisp, spicy air rushing across her face. It was like the cobwebs of the past several months—the anxiety of the McClarin trial, the hounding reporters, the worry of completing Interlude without creating a scar on her work record—slowly melted away. The road trip had succeeded in one thing; it made Los Angeles seem distant and small.
She glanced sideways at Seth’s bold presence behind the wheel of the SUV. He seemed even bigger and more vibrant since their cross-country escape. Her uncertainty about how she should proceed with Seth Hightower in a secluded forest home remained, but the lessening of her other anxieties at least made her feel clearer . . . lighter.