Page 17 of Crossing the Line
She felt the pressure of a loafer sole squashing her foot under the table and hid her laugh with a cough. She thunked Xavier solidly on the shoulder as if they were old drinking buddies. “Yep, I can count on this guy to keep me safe from physical harm.”
He gave a final, painful squish before moving his foot. She caught him in the shin with her bare heel and had the satisfaction of hearing a soft grunt.
Oblivious, Phil plowed on. “I’m going to take that as you forgiving me for my involvement in your little ambush about bringing Xavier on board. There’s nothing that we all value more than your safety.”
Oh, goodie. They’d moved on to the ass-kissing portion of the meal. She had no idea why Phil felt like it was necessary. He’d been her mother’s agent since before Waverly was born. She’d known the man her entire life, yet he still couldn’t be real with her.
She kept her pleasant mask in place and let Phil zig and zag his way to his point over edamame and sashimi. While Phil tried to pry information out of her, she watched Xavier eat. Even when dabbling with the wasabi, he never stopped scanning the room. He looked relaxed, engaged, but looks were usually deceiving in this town.
He seemed not to notice the appreciative gazes directed his way by the restaurant’s female—and some of the male—clientele, but Waverly was certain he noticed and filed it all away along with the rest of his observations.
“So, my dear,” Phil began, patting his thin mouth with a cloth napkin. “Have you given any thought to your next project?” He leaned in, his suit bunching at the arms, looking like a confidante.
Waverly finished her bite of tuna and casually reached for another piece. “I have,” she told him, keeping her tone light. She punched up the energy to sound excited. “There are a couple of scripts that caught my attention.”
Phil, sensing the prize he sought, cocked his head to the side. All ears. “Which titles?”
Waverly drew it out by taking a leisurely sip of water. “Originally I was considering Will Wakefield’s remake.”
“Really?” Phil’s enthusiasm oozed through his pores. “That would be an excellent choice for you.”
“I thought so, too,” she agreed. “But the shooting would overlap with the European leg of the press tour forThe Dedication.And with the buzz we’re getting from advance viewings, I’m not willing to sacrifice that commitment.”
“Hmm,” Phil nodded. “I think that’s a wise decision.”
Waverly shot a glance at Xavier, noted that he was watching her closely. She turned back to Phil and tried to ignore the weight of his gaze on her. “I read through the one your office sent over last week, and I’m just not feeling it. I don’t think it’s going to get off the ground.”
“Sound instincts,” Phil commended.
She could have sworn she heard Xavier mutter “kiss ass” under his breath, but it was hard to tell with the background noise.
“I’ve got two more possibles that I’m looking at,” she continued.
“If you have any questions that need answered, you know I’m just a phone call away. I’m happy to talk to the studios for you—perhaps get some preliminary numbers?”
“Thank you, Phil. I’ll let you know.”
Appeased that she was actually still planning to work for a living, Phil led the conversation down the path of industry gossip. Who had just been let go from what project, what the critics were whispering about so and so’s new movie. Waverly listened with half an ear and wondered how much time she’d bought herself.
Finally, Phil had had his fill of both sushi and quality time and called it a night.
Xavier had the valet bring his SUV around while she watched the crowd outside from the host stand. Night had fallen, and thanks to a fresh-out-of-rehab soap star’s arrival twenty minutes earlier, the crowd of photographers and fans had grown.
“Ready to go?” Xavier asked, studying her face.
Waverly pasted on a smile and dragged her sunglasses out of her bag. “Sure. Let’s go.”
As soon as she stepped outside the crowd pressed in. People were shouting her name, and the flashes were blindingly bright. She tried to concentrate on Xavier’s hand on her back, but someone grabbed her arm hard and she stumbled. The noise turned to a dull throb in her head, and she felt the panic closing in.
Then Xavier was shoving her under his arm, holding her tight against him while blazing a path to the SUV with his free hand. Restaurant security took up her other side and held the crowd at bay.
She caught the gleam of teeth, the flash of a camera, her name on strangers’ lips in a tornado of stimulus. Xavier yanked open the SUV door and all but deposited her on the seat.
“Angel.”
She looked up at him, his face inches from hers. He was calm, completely calm. There was no danger, and it made her relax instantly.
“You gotta let go, Waverly,” he said softly.
