Page 19 of Callback
“That was fast. You read it all?”
My lungs tightened with a deep breath, working hard to regulate each inhalation. “Yep. Read it all.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked and a bit of his hair fell across his forehead. My fingers twitched, aching to thread them through his hair and push the fallen strands out of his face. “And… you’re okay with everything?” Jude pointed that glower of his directly at me.
Crap. He’s going to see right through my lie. “Yes,” I said, as Jude reached across and took the rolling bag from me. “It was a bit unorthodox, but I… understand.” I tilted my head, angling my chin at him. What did Jude say about this contract? Dammit, I should have just read the stupid thing. Think, Marly, think! What was one thing it said inside? “I mean, like you said, the club has to protect themselves somehow, right?”
I held his steely gaze, those intense, jade eyes glittering back at me. “That’s right.”
Heat flashed across his gaze and as quickly as I saw it, it was gone. “Come on,” he said, lifting my bag effortlessly. Heading for his car, his palm hovered at my lower back, not quite touching but seeming to give an electric pulse as though he had some sort of supernatural power. How could Ifeelhim without really feeling him? It made no sense. Jude hit the button on his keychain and from across the parking lot, a black car beeped, the headlights flashing as it unlocked. “Will Omar be coming?”
Omar? Oh, right. He had invited Omar multiple times so that I would feel more comfortable. I shook my head. “No. I have to do this alone.”
“Well,” Jude whispered, bumping my elbow with his. “Notalone.”
I smiled up at him. “You know what I mean.” Shoving my fingers inside the wig cap, I scratched at the base of my scalp. Damn thing wassoitchy. And hot.
“By the way, the wig was a smart idea,” Jude said.
I snorted, the dark hair catching against my glossy lips. “Lot of good it did, since I wasstillrecognized.”
“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t a good idea.”
“Well, we can’t have any cameras catching me out and about with Hollywood’s most notorious bachelor, can we?”
Jude bellowed a laugh as he opened the door to a sleek, black Bugatti, gesturing for me to get in. The noise caught me off guard—it was such a different laugh than the throaty chuckle I was accustomed to hearing from him. “You make a strong point, Ms. Taylor.”
My gaze flicked from the Bugatti to my own car parked across the lot. “Leave it,” he answered, reading my thoughts. “My assistant will come pick it up tonight and bring it back to my place. We’ll park it in the garage where no one will see it.”
I slid into the plush leather seats. There was a groan and I wasn’t sure if it was me or the sound of leather buckling around my weight. Jude tossed my bag in the trunk, then circled around and dropped himself into the driver’s seat.
“Well,” I said, “according to you, if it’s something the media reports on, it’s likely not even close to the truth, right?”
He winked and the car purred to life. “You’re learning.”
“What can I say?” I flipped open the passenger side mirror, fiddling with the dark curls. “I’m a quick study.” I swung my head wildly back and forth like an exaggerated supermodel on acid. “So, what do you think of the dark hair?” I asked, dropping my voice deeper. “Should I make it a permanent change?”
Omar would have laughed. Jack would have pulled me into his lap and kissed me. But Jude simply stared. His eyes were intense; fixed onto my mouth and they slowly slid up to meet my gaze. He stared until I shifted in the seat. Heat surged in my cheeks, flushing my face. It was like some sort of convoluted game of chicken. One I was definitely going to lose. “I-I was kidding.”
“I know.” There was a crinkle at the corners of his eyes that suggested a smile and yet those lips—dang, those lips, were nowhere close to lifting. He leaned over, reaching forward with one hand and adjusted the wig. It shifted on my head and the curls symmetrically fell to each side of my shoulders.
Then, he stretched beyond my body, reaching across my shoulders and taking hold of the seatbelt. With a tug, he pulled it across my chest and clicked it into place at the base of my hip. “Safety first,” he whispered, but didn’t make any move to stop staring. A blush crawled from my itchy hairline down to my painted toes. Flirting with him was major league and I was still in the minors, learning the rules of the game. His eyes darted back and forth, skimming my features. The grin slid lazily across his face this time. “Not used to being looked at so closely, Ms. Taylor?”
I swallowed. “I’m an actress. Scrutiny comes with the job.” Then, after a pause, I added. “I’m just trying to figure out what it is you’re looking for.”
“Me, too,” he muttered as the car glided out of its spot.
