Page 56 of Find Me in California

Shock rippled through me. “He told you that?”

He shook his head. “Not so much in words.”

“Liza say something?”

He nodded.

I opened my mouth to tell him how sorry I was. That confession from her had to hurt. But I stopped short of saying anything. This could be good. Hadn’t she told me she suspected Matty slept around? Or was I just assuming that for my own benefit? Was I looking for justification to be with Matty?

“I didn’t know. She didn’t say anything to me. She ... She isn’t at the hotel tonight for the gala planning, is she? She left you.”

“Why do you think I’m drinking?” He lifted his glass in a mock toast, then fell silent. I watched him trace a finger around the lip, wondering what must be going through his mind, when he announced, “I should be in bed. We’re filming at the crack of dawn, but I can’t sleep.”

I wondered where Liza had gone. Was she expecting him to go after her, prove his love like she’d once told me? I didn’t ask him. Instead, I heard myself whisper an offer. “Do you want to stay? We can talk.”

“I’d like that.” He dropped into one of the chairs on the porch. “Got anything to drink? I’m on empty.” He set the tumbler on the table.

“Yes. What would you like?”

“Water?”

I smiled. “Coming right up.”

We talked on the porch for over two hours about everything and nothing. He wanted to know about life in the commune and was especially curious about why I’d left home and Benjie and Sam. He wanted to know if I’m happy here. I told him that I’m happier than I’ve ever been because I’m doing this—living here, working in the dirt—for me. California was where I wanted to be when I first ran away.

He told me what his life had been like growing up. He was a nobody with a deadbeat dad and an alcoholic mom. He’d never had acting lessons but auditioned for a small part on a whim. He didn’t believe he was talented. He thought he was getting by on his charm and good looks. He’d milk those as long as he could. But despite all the glitz and glam of the life he led, he missed people being real. He missed being real himself. He peered at me, his beautiful hazel eyes holding mine, and told me that I was real. That was why he liked being aroundme. Why he hasn’t stopped thinking of me since that day we meditated in the garden. His words wove a spell. He was opening himself up to me, telling me things I’m assuming he’d only shared with Liza. He was making it too easy for me not to just fall for the movie star or my dear friend’s husband, but for the man himself. For Matty.

I felt hot, flushed, and shot to my feet. “I need something stronger than water.”

“Was it something I said?”

“No, it’s me.” I touched his shoulder, moving around him into the studio, and he snagged my fingers. A jolt shot along my arm. My gaze lifted from our hands to his face. His eyes dilated with desire. Then he suddenly let go.

I poured vodka over ice and reached for a second glass. “Do you want one, or am I drinking alone?” I called out to him.

“I’ll share yours,” he said from right behind me.

My breath caught in my throat as his arms slipped around my waist and drew me back against his chest. I could feel the heat of him through my thin nightgown. He kissed my shoulder, a soft, lingering kiss, and reached for my glass on the counter. He took a deep drink and gave me the glass, turning me to face him as I took a sip. Eyes fixed on mine, he took the glass from my hand and set it on the counter.

I then forgot all about that glass.

I forgot about Liza too.

And Sam, and Benjie, and my parents.

I only thought of me with Matty.

I lifted my nightgown over my head, and his gaze followed the satin as it pooled at our feet. His eyes hungrily swept up my body, landing on my mouth. I’d never felt so desired.

“Mags.” His voice was strained, grainy. He grasped my face with both hands and brought his mouth down on mine. The kiss was fire. My hands were on him, stripping off his shirt and unbuckling his jeans. We didn’t stop kissing or touching as he walked me backward toward the bed. We fell naked onto the mattress, and I drew my legs up by hiships. I cupped his jaw and he broke the kiss, lifted his head. I saw his hesitation, his questions.

“I want this,” I whispered the reassurance.

“I want this too, but I also want you.”

My soul soared, and he took my body in ways that seemed only right with him. He made me feel things I never could have with Sam, as if he were trying to make me forget him. I wanted us to forget Liza. And for a stretch of time—an hour, maybe two—I think we did.

CHAPTER 26

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