“Of course they do. They respect what I can do. And it’s not as bad as it was just a few years ago,” he told her. “But there are still times when I go for a first face-to-face meet that I see the quick look away and hear that tone of instant compassion rather than the more restrained and distant tone of strangers.”
“People care that you suffered. That’s a good thing.”
Fingers crossed on top of his desk, he stared at her for a long moment.
She stood her ground, metaphorically speaking.
And he smiled. “You’re right. And this is what I’m talking about. Everyone else in my life—including my family—is afraid to talk to me about my deformity. You just barrel right in.”
“I don’t see a deformity.”
“You see skin that won’t ever grow a beard.”
“Personally, I can’t stand beards, or mustaches, either.” She really did fall for men with clean-shaven faces but was afraid he’d think she was just saying so. “I mean...it gets me, you know...thinking about him blowing his nose and... Ew.” She broke off, embarrassed by her rambling.
“And anyway, do men ever think about how soft a woman’s skin is? And how scratchy those things can be? You want whiskers poking your nose when you kiss? Or poking other parts of you when...”
Oh. My. God. What was she doing? She could not be talking to Michael about how much she hated the feel of a beard during sex. Lacey, yeah, she could talk to her about such things.
But here was one area where Michael wasn’t like Lacey.
She couldn’t talk to him like she could her sister when it came to...sex. Or periods or hormones, either, she added just in case her psyche hadn’t yet fully grasped the magnitude of the revelation.
And then it dawned on her. She was busy thinking about herself, her own gaffe, and Michael had just opened the door she’d been knocking on all these months.
As kind as he was, he sat silently. So him, not making her outburst worse by responding to it.
So her to f
ocus so intently on herself.
But he was giving her a chance to get over herself.
“Will you tell me about it, please?” she asked. Not with pity. Not with curiosity, either, but because she cared. “You seem to think it somehow defines you, Michael. And maybe it does. But I can’t know that if I don’t know what happened in your past to make you what you are today.”
Realizing that she was talking about so much more than looks, Kacey held her breath.
And prayed that if Michael granted her request, she wouldn’t fail him.
CHAPTER NINE
MICHAEL HAD NEVER promised anyone he wouldn’t talk about what had happened. He just didn’t do it. Most in his circle already knew. And those outside didn’t need to know.
And there was Kacey. Outside his circle and yet...in.
She wanted in.
He wanted her there.
Privately. Just like he was in hers.
If others got wind of them, it wouldn’t work. There’d be talk, suppositions, pressure, conclusions.
His family would build it into more than was there. Let their relief push assumptions. And those assumptions would push Kacey away.
Same with her family.
And the rest of her life? Her Beverly Hills clan... He could just imagine what a circus they’d make of the beautiful actress hanging out with the man with the shiny face.