Page 46 of His Girl Hollywood
She opened the door and there was Don, backlit by the streetlight and impossibly handsome. He grinned, pulling the scar on his cheek into the dimple she loved so well. She resisted the urge for her knees to give way beneath her.
“I thought you might have changed your mind,” he teased, a hint of nervousness in his voice.
It flustered her because she’d debated that the whole way home. Was she being a fool? “I’ll admit, I thought about it,” she said, twisting her hands in the fabric of her skirt.
“I’ll go if you want,” he said, turning on his heel.
“No!” She stopped him. Surprised by her own vehemence. “No, I just meant you can at least come in for a nightcap or something.”
She moved aside to let him enter the house, and he did, stepping across the threshold and taking in the space. The shabbiness of the room suddenly stuck out to her. The threadbare rug under her coffee table, the lack of decoration. She’d spent so much of her time at Joan’s place as her assistant that she’d never felt much need to fill her house with things. Why pile up a house with stuff when the only thing you did in it was sleep?
“It’s—” Don started to say.
“Not much, I know.”
He reached for her hand and lifted it to his mouth, grazing herknuckles softly with his lips. She shivered at the contact. “I was going to say it’s perfect.”
“Oh.”
He dropped her hand and walked farther into the room.
“I’m not here much, so it still needs a lot of work.”
“Seems like paradise to me. I’ve been living out of hotel rooms for the last ten years. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have a space that is yours completely. To do with as you wish.”
She hadn’t thought of that. She did love it for that reason. It was the only thing she’d had that was hers and hers alone. Perhaps that was also why she hadn’t decorated much. It felt too monumental to decide what she should hang on a wall or what piece of furniture she should buy to populate her home for years to come. “I bought it with Joan’s money. She gave me a loan when I was her assistant. Said it was too much for me to drive back and forth from San Pedro every day. I paid her back last year with the money I earned writingReno Rendezvous.”
He nodded and took off his hat, throwing it onto the couch as if it were his home too. There was a pang in her chest at the idea. She’d never dared to imagine that this version of Don would be here, standing in her living room as if he belonged there. She should give it up, dismiss it as the mirage it was meant to be. But she simply couldn’t. Not after dreaming of it for so long. “It was a great picture. I went to see it three times.”
Arlene blushed and looked at her bare feet, focusing on the chipped pale-pink polish on her toes. “I wrote it for Joan. So she could finally have the script she deserved.”
Don looked at her with admiration in his eyes. “She’s lucky to have a friend like you.”
“Oh, no, it’s me who’s the lucky one. I wouldn’t have anything if it weren’t for Joan.”
Don smiled and shook his head. “I bet you five bucks she’d say the same about you.”
Arlene couldn’t suppress a smile at that. “Well, probably you’re right. Shewasrather stubborn about Dash Howard until I helped them see they were hopelessly in love with each other. They were so blind to their feelings.”
He barked out a laugh. “That seems to be a common problem for everyone but you.”
His words changed the air in the room. Suddenly, there was an electric charge. The pulse of want that had sprung up between them in the backyard returned. Arlene didn’t know what to say. “What do you mean?”
“How about I show you?” He crossed the room in two steps and took her in his arms, tangling his hand in the hair at the nape of her neck. He kissed her. She froze in his arms, afraid to give in to the pull of her attraction. Because once she did, there would be no turning back. Don was not the self-obsessed cad she’d believed him to be. But that didn’t change the fact that getting involved with her leading man would endanger everything she’d worked for.
He pulled back, noticing her reticence. “Should I go?” he asked, meeting her eyes and gazing at her with such care and affection that she could swear a small crack in her heart knit itself back together. He’d put it there, but now he was mending it. Could she not just have this? One night with him to fulfill all her fantasies. Surely, that would be enough. It had to be.
She answered him with bruising passion, biting at his lip as he threw himself back into the clinch with renewed devotion. It was even better than the kiss on set and the one in the yard. It was all-consuming. She allowed him to push her gently against the wall behind them, the one that divided the kitchen from the living room. She arched her back into it and reached for him, her fingersdipping under the edge of the royal-blue knit shirt he’d worn to dinner.
He began dotting a trail of kisses from the corner of her mouth down her neck to the hollow above her collarbone. He swirled his tongue there and she gasped, circling her arms around him and digging her nails into his back, silently grateful she kept them short for working on set.
He raised his hands and undid the top button of her gingham day dress, looking in her eyes as if he was seeking approval. She nodded furiously and he undid the rest, making quick work of them. He slipped his hands through the panels of her dress, exploring the curves and undulations of her body. Her dress was undone and she stood before him in her bra and girdle. He stepped back and let his eyes trace her body, scorching every inch of her with a glance as he took her in. Like her nails, her undergarments were practical—a white bra and girdle, simple and unfussy. Their distinct lack of sex appeal was suddenly extremely evident to her. She lifted her arms to cover herself. “I’m sorry.”
He frowned. “For what?”
“I don’t own anything fancy—nothing with lace or…or the sexy things.”
He grinned a lascivious smile. “Lena, I don’t care. You’re beautiful. Beautiful things don’t need adornment.”