Captivated by You Read online

Needing to do something besides stare at his ridiculously long eyelashes—seriously, what man needed eyelashes so thick and dark?—she stood and headed for the TV. Bending over, she shuffled through the selection of movies in search of National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. “Want to watch a movie?”

  “Sure.” He stood up and handed her a glass. “I’m thinking a holiday classic is in order.”

  She extracted a hand, begging it silently not to shake, and then turned her focus back to the DVDs. The full force of his green eyes on her was almost enough to turn her into a bumbling idiot. He’d always had that effect on her, and she hated it. She was an adult, damn it. Not some lovesick teenage girl. “I watch the same movie every Christmas with my family. This is the first year I’ll be watching it without them.”

  “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation? It’s right there, on the left.”

  A breath caught in her throat, attempting to cut off her supply of oxygen. He remembered her favorite movie? When had she told him about her Christmas tradition? It had to have been at least ten years ago. She picked up the movie and looked at him, hugging the disk to her chest. “How do you remember my favorite Christmas movie?”

  “Why wouldn’t I remember it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  His eyes met hers, sending a wave of heat through her. She had the urge to grab him by the shoulders and smash her lips on his just for the hell of it. How many actresses had gotten paid to do that? But Lacey didn’t need money. She just wanted him.

  No, she couldn’t do that. She’d been through enough disastrous relationships, and had no desire to go back there with a man whose job consisted of kissing gorgeous women on a daily basis. No, thank you.

  He took a sip of his drink then raised the glass to her. “I remember pretty much everything you ever told me. I’ve got a good memory.”

  “Oh.” She looked away from him, needing to separate herself from his intoxicating stare. “Yeah, that makes sense. Actors have to remember all of their lines, and the actions to go with their lines. An eye roll here. A dramatic gasp there.”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much all there is to my life anymore.”

  “If your career is based off you memorizing things, why didn’t the math I tried to teach you ever stick in that photographic memory of yours?”

  He pried the movie out of her fingers and popped it open before sliding the DVD into the player. “Because I was too busy staring at you to pay attention, more than likely.”

  She blinked at him, fighting the long forgotten yet somehow familiar urge to smile back at him and flirt. They’d always flirted and teased each other as kids, and he was acting as if nothing changed in that quarter. Well, duh. His job required him to be a charming, handsome man that women would fall in love with over and over again in movies. Of course he would continue the front in her living room. Of course he would pretend that he actually liked her—or even thought she was pretty. If she wanted to go and read more into his words than the role he played in life, then she was a fool.

  She took a sip of champagne before answering, needing a few seconds to compose her answer. This easy banter might come easily to him, but for her it had been a long time. Ever since Joe broke her heart and left her alone, she hadn’t exactly been big on flirting and laughing with men. And tonight didn’t feel like an exception. Instead of coming up with a teasing reply, she simply said what was on her mind. “I doubt that.”

  He flushed and dragged a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch after I left. I got your emails, but didn’t have time to write back.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize to me. It’s not a big deal. I mean, it’s not like we were dating or something.”

  “I know.” He looked down at the TV, his jaw tense. “Still, I’m sorry.”

  She swallowed another sip of her drink, struggling to get past her throbbing throat. When he’d left, she’d checked her email several times a day for a few months, eagerly waiting to hear from him. He’d promised to write her every day, so she could live vicariously through his exciting life. Every day she woke up, expecting for the first email to hit her inbox.

  When no such letter came, she had realized all those nights spent studying together on her parents’ couch had meant something entirely different to him than it had to her. To her, it had been the highlight of her weekends. To him, it had probably been nothing more than a way to graduate and leave the small town he hated so much. To hear he regretted not keeping in touch both warmed her heart and saddened her.

  “I kept up on you,” she said, giving him a small smile. “Eve told me all about your auditions, and after you made it big, I couldn’t have avoided seeing your face even if I wanted to.”

  He grabbed the champagne and refilled her cup, then his. “Yeah. I guess there’s that. So, I hear you’re a teacher now?”

  “Yeah.” She took a shaky breath. “Second grade.”

  “That’s how old you were the first time I met you.”

  She shot him another look. For someone as successful as he was in life, he remembered an awful lot of details about her. Last year, she’d seen a story about him being invited to the White House to dine with the President—but he remembered all these little things about her? Did she dare hope it meant he had thought of her once or twice over the years? Probably not. More than likely, Eve had mentioned it in passing. She’d have to thank her later for reminding Mark that she still existed, since he’d obviously forgotten.

  “Yep,” she mumbled into her glass, taking another sip. “I think I was.”

  He picked up the remote and started the movie, settling back on the couch. “So, you like it?”

  She blinked at him and sat down beside him. “Like what?”

  “Teaching.” His lips twitched. “Is this your second bottle? Are you drunk already, Lacey?”

  “Uh.” She eyed the kitchen, where an empty bottle sat. “Maybe a little.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “I knew it. You could never hold your liquor well.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m not seventeen anymore. I assure you I’m now capable of drinking more than a glass of wine before I’m puking on your shoes.”

  “I took them off just in case.” He wiggled his toes. “See? Safe and sound.”

  She punched his arm, her cheeks heating up. The last time she’d seen him, on the night of his graduation, she’d snuck into his backyard with a bottle of pilfered wine. She and Mark had sat on his porch and drank all night long. Until sunrise. Knowing he would be gone soon, she’d not so brightly decided to make a move on him.

  He was leaving in the morning, so if he laughed in her face, at least she wouldn’t have to see him again. She’d been moving in for a kiss, drunk enough to feel both bold and confident that she looked sexy in his eyes, but she’d ruined the effect by puking her guts up on his Nike’s. And for a second, as she moved closer to him, she’d sworn that she had seen desire cross his eyes before she lost all control of her stomach.

  She looked down at his feet, covered in expensive looking socks that probably cost more than her whole outfit combined—including the shoes she no longer wore. “You’ll never let me live that night down, will you?”

  “I don’t know. It was a pretty awesome night.” He nudged her with his elbow. “I think about it sometimes when I’m playing a part where I have to laugh. It helps inspire me to actually look amused.”

  She put down her glass and dropped her head in her hands. “Oh, God. I’ll never be able to watch one of your movies and not think about you mocking me now.”

  “Mocking? Never.” He grabbed her hands, tugging them away from her face. She looked up at him, caught sight of his sparkling eyes, and allowed herself to drown in them. “As if I would ever mock you. You just make me smile. That’s all. It reminds me of how life used to be. How simple things were with you, studying math and talking about what we wanted to be when we grew up. I was happy back then.”

&nb
sp; There was a haunting emptiness to his words as he fidgeted with his glass.

  “So, it’s not what you expected?” she asked, her voice quiet.

  Mark looked up at her through his lashes, his eyes locked on her. “I enjoy my career. I enjoy acting. But … sometimes I wish I had picked a different one.”

  She shook her head. “Why would you want to give up your Hollywood lifestyle? You wear it well.”

  “Well, maybe I wouldn’t give up everything.” He pushed the glass away and picked up the People Magazine. He stopped at a page where his picture was plastered across it. “See this? That day I was sick. Felt like shit and dragged my feverish ass out of bed to get my prescription filled.”

  She leaned closer and looked at the picture. “You look happy to me. Of course, you’re wearing sunglasses so I can’t see your eyes, but you look content enough.”

  “Yeah, because I have to look that way. If the paparazzi take a picture of me with a red nose and puffy eyes—next day they’ll be calling me a drug addict. Saying I was out all night partying and snorting lines of cocaine. Next thing you know, my publicist is making me enter rehab for exhaustion.”

  “That sucks.” She pulled the magazine out of his hand and tossed it face down on the table. “Well, how about this? Relax. You don’t have to be charming. Don’t have to pretend to want to rip my clothes off to keep your sex status symbol. Just be you. I promise I won’t tell anyone if you un-tuck your shirt and kick back for a bit.”

  He bit back a smile. “You think I’m pretending I want to rip your clothes off to appear sexy?”

  “No, of course not!” She bit her tongue, inwardly cursing herself for her choice of words. Way to make it sound like she thought he wanted to get into her bed. Idiot. “How come you latched onto that one part about sex out of the whole speech I just gave you? It’s such a typical man thing.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “It’s ingrained. We can’t help it.”

  She rubbed her temples and sighed.

  He leaned in closer to her, his eyes latched on her mouth. “What if I want to rip off your clothes and have sex with you?”

  She poured herself another glass and ignored the clenching of her stomach. “Nothing wrong with wanting.”

  “Tease,” he uttered, grabbing her hands again. Why did he keep doing that? What was he up to tonight?

  “Me? Never.”

  His laughter melted away. His gaze dropped back down to her mouth and his fingers flexed on her hands. When he moved in closer, her breath caught in her throat. Was he going to kiss her? She tilted her chin up and her eyelids drifted shut. Waiting. Hoping.

  Instead of getting the kiss she expected, she got her hands back in her lap, and he jumped to his feet. Of course he hadn’t been thinking of kissing her. She’d obviously imagined the whole thing, and now he was trying to get away from her. What happened to the promise she’d made to herself not to throw herself at him?

  Fool.

  Here she went again, trying to kiss the poor guy when he so clearly didn’t want to be kissed … by her. Why couldn’t she resist him? What chance did she, a teacher from a small town, have against Hollywood A-list actresses? He didn’t want her. Wouldn’t ever want her. They were friends—if she could even call what they had between them “friendship.” After all, he’d left for California and she’d never heard from him again. If he hadn’t broken down outside of her house, she wouldn’t be seeing him now, either. When would she get that through her thick, thick skull?

  She finally opened her eyes and bit down hard on her lip, watching him pace in front of her. He nibbled on his thumbnail, his steps wide and hurried. He must be praying for the tow truck to hurry up and come get him before she threw herself at him again. Not looking at her, he asked, “So, what have you been up to besides work? When’s the last time you saw Eve?”

  “Um, a few weeks ago. And I’m not up to much besides work.” She paused, seeing where this conversation was going. Knowing Eve, he knew all about Joe and his infidelity. “How much do you know about my engagement?”

  He stopped mid-pace, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. “Truthfully? Everything. He sounds like a royal fuckwad.”

  “Yeah, he was. Is.”

  She ignored the slice of pain knifing through her heart. She didn’t really miss Joe, per se, but she missed having someone in her life that cared about her. Missed having a person to come home to and eat dinner with. She’d had that with Joe, and thought she’d spend the rest of her life with him. Start a family. She’d been wrong.

  “How’s work?” he asked, pouring them more champagne. Her head was already spinning, but she took it from him anyway, thankful for the change of subject.

  “It’s good. I love being a teacher.” She stole a look at him to see if he looked bored silly, but he watched her as intently as before. “Actually, I got an award last spring for teacher of the year. I’m the youngest to ever be crowned—so it was a pretty big deal. Not as big of a deal as winning a People’s Choice Award, of course, but fun nonetheless.”

  “Are you kidding me?” He smiled at her. “That’s amazing, and much more impressive than an award for being cute on screen.”

  She snorted. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Absolutely not.” He stood up and tugged her to her feet. “Show it to me. Where is it?”

  She blinked at him, unable to believe he could be so excited about a plastic trophy. Why was he acting so interested in her life when his own was a million times more exciting? And, unfortunately, his excitement in her success made her melt toward him more—as if she needed help in that department. To see him so excited about it made her long to throw her arms around him and kiss him senseless. Again.

  Six months earlier, she hadn’t had anyone in her life that could even pretend to be excited about her award—besides her parents and Eve. Joe had recently broken her heart and she’d been alone and miserable. For weeks afterward, she’d moped around, feeling lost and confused. When they called her name over the microphone, and she’d stumbled up to the stage in surprise, the cloud following over her head had dissipated. After winning the award, she’d gone home and set it in a place of honor right in the middle of the fireplace mantle. That small little token of appreciation had been the highlight of her year.

  Forcing her attention back to the present, she shrugged. “It’s not here. It’s over at my place. I don’t live here anymore, remember?”

  He flushed. “Well, I want to see it sometime.”

  “If you want to see my little trophy, you’ll have to come back to visit.” She motioned toward the door. “Perhaps when it’s not snowing so you can avoid ditches?”

  “It’s a date.”

  She froze. She knew he didn’t mean the word in a literal sense, but it didn’t stop her heart from skipping a beat or two.

  He gave a small shake of his head. “Normal is a good thing—not something to bemoan. You should embrace the privacy. I miss it.”

  “If you say so,” she mumbled. She sat back down, feeling awkward standing in the middle of the room. “Did you really punch that photographer in the nuts for snapping a picture of Pink’s baby?”

  He shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets. “He made the poor little thing cry, and refused to back up when Pink asked him to. What did he expect?”

  “Is she nice?” She leaned forward and tapped her foot. “I’ve always wanted to meet her. When I saw you were friends with her and her husband, I died of jealousy a little bit.”

  “She’s great. They’re both great.” He ran a hand over his jaw, his eyes guarded. “You can come visit me sometime if you want, and I’ll introduce you.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

  “Good. I can’t wait to show you the glamorous Hollywood life. You’ll enjoy it, I think.”

  “I bet.” But knew she would never see him again after tomorrow. He was here with her now, so it was easy to make empty plans and promises, but once he returned to the life of an A-liste
r, he would forget all about her. Again. Time for a dose of reality. She’d ask the one question she’d avoided up until now. “So what hot Hollywood star are you dating now? I promise not to tell.”

  Something crossed his eyes, something that looked an awful lot like uncertainty when combined with his wrinkled brow, but he shook his head. “I’m single.”

  She wagged a finger at him. “I don’t think you are. I saw that look in your eyes. Oh god. Is it someone normal? An agent? Publicist? Your accountant’s niece?”

  “No, there’s no one. And besides, I wouldn’t date a normal girl.”

  She drew back, insulted despite her own thoughts on the subject matching up with his words. “Why not? Normal isn’t good enough for you anymore?”

  “The opposite, actually. I can’t date anyone without dragging her into the spotlight, and completely changing her life in the process.”

  “If she agrees to date you, then I’d have to assume she’s prepared for that.”

  “Maybe too much so. A lot of the women I meet want to date one of the characters I’ve played—not the real me. Or they want my money.” He stopped pacing and looked at her, his jaw hard. “Or, in some cases, they wanna use me to get famous. I’ve stopped dating because of this. None of them really know me. Or want to know me.”

  She pursed her lips. She’d never thought of the hardships of being a star before. To her, it seemed all glamour and money. “Oh.”

  “Sometimes, I long for normal. Boring.”

  She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you calling my life boring?”

  “No, of course not. I’d never associate you with the word boring in a million years.” He sighed and rubbed his jaw. “And I’m not unhappy with my career choices, or anything. But sometimes I wish …”

  “For love?” she asked softly, unable to believe he was telling her this. “Anonymity? Happiness?”

  When they were kids, they would spend hours sharing their deepest thoughts and wishes, but their long conversations had taken place lifetimes ago. Eons ago. Never would she expect him to be so open now, with so much lost time between them.