Hollywood Ex Factor, page 2
She narrowed her eyes, irked that he was inciting the same old argument, spinning the narrative to suit him. “I had a right to change my mind. Being an actor makes me happy.”
“Oh, really? Then why were you so miserable half the time?”
“I was only miserable when it wasn’t going well.” She’d made it big at nine years old, and by the time her stardom had ended, she was a teenager, struggling to find her footing. A phase that had lasted through her twenties, when she’d fallen head over heels in love with him. A mistake, if there ever was one. “Everyone else wanted me to succeed again. My mom, your family. Everyone except you.” She glared at him. “You’re the least supportive person I know.”
He loosened his tie all the way. “I supported you plenty. Besides, you knew that I never wanted to be married to a celebrity. That it was a deal breaker for me.”
She huffed out a breath. “You didn’t even try to compromise.”
“Damn it, Margot, I wanted a conventional life with you. Not all of the TV-star hoopla.”
“It’s not hoopla. It’s my job,” she shot back.
“A job you chose over me.”
“I didn’t choose it over you. I wanted my old career back. But you refused to listen to my side of it.”
“You didn’t care about my side of it, either.”
“Yes, I did.” She’d taken his issues into consideration. She’d stressed and worried about his feelings. But she’d been foolish in believing that he’d loved her enough to make it work. “You divorced me, not the other way around.”
“What was the point of staying together if all we did was fight? I did you a favor by leaving.”
She mocked him. “Lucky me, having such a considerate husband. But you know what? You need to go now.”
“Gladly.” He stood, coming to his towering height.
At five-nine, Margot was considered tall, too. But with his size and strength, he was Hulk material. She used to tease him and say that she was going to paint him green. Now she just wanted to knock him flat on his ass.
He polished off the rest of his beer. “I’ll bet that after I’m gone, you’re going to run right over to Bailey’s and bitch to her about me.”
“I can share my feelings with her if I want to.” She wasn’t going to let him control her friendship with his sister.
“This is bullshit.”
“If you say so.” She gestured to the front door, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he went into the kitchen to rinse out the empty bottle and put it in the recycling container below the sink.
She dogged him. “Look at you. Mr. Tidy.”
“So, I’m not a slob. Not like you.”
Margot gritted her teeth. “I’m not a slob. A little disorganized, maybe. But that’s not the same as being messy.”
“Are you kidding? You never clean up after yourself.” He glanced at her sparkling counters. “At least you have a great maid service. It’s obvious they were here this morning.”
“Whatever.” It was true, her housekeeper had been there. “Just get out of my sight and don’t ever come back.”
He rounded on her. “Are you sure you don’t want to kiss me first? Or rip off my clothes and claw the crap out of me?”
Her pulse zipped through her body, going straight to the instant heat between her legs. A half-cocked smile spread across his lips. Could he tell that she was turned on by what he’d said? His security training made him a bit of an expert in that regard. He was good at reading people’s emotions. Of course, he used to say that she was sometimes hard to gauge. A fact that both challenged and perplexed him.
She lifted her chin. “I never should’ve had an affair with you.”
He stared her down. “Yeah, well, it’s too late. You already did.”
He didn’t immediately leave like he was supposed to. He stayed put, keeping her hanging on by a thread. There was no way she was going to kiss him, or unclothe him, even if she wanted to. Idiot that she was, she would probably fantasize about him tonight: sighing, moaning, touching herself.
“This isn’t fair,” she said.
“What isn’t? That you still want me? Or that I still want you? I wish I knew how to fix it.”
“Me, too. It would be nice if we could find a way to get past it without being so angry.” She searched his gaze, desperate for a solution. Neither of them should be suffering this way. “There’s got to be something we can do.” She studied him, her mind whirring. “Maybe we can try to be friends.”
“Friends?” he parroted.
“Yes, you know. A platonic relationship between people who are supposed to like each other.”
“Do you like me, Margot?”
“Sometimes,” she replied honestly.
“I like you sometimes, too,” he said softly.
She always got a little woozy when he whispered. To combat the feeling, she squared her shoulders. “We can use that as our starting point.”
He looked worried, dragging a hand through his hair and spiking the short, thick strands.
“Do you really think that’ll work?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She wasn’t any better at being his friend than he was at being hers. “But it’s got to be less stressful than fighting.” Or wanting each other, she thought. She needed to stomp out her hunger for him. To crush it to bits.
“I guess we can try. But how are we supposed to go about it?”
“I can come by your place on my way to the studio tomorrow morning and bring breakfast.” That seemed friendly enough. Plus, her mom was already scheduled to take Liam to school that day. Margot didn’t have to alter her routine to see Zeke. “We can figure out where to go from there. But I’ll be there really early, so don’t sleep in.”
“Do I ever?”
“No, I suppose not.” He was an early riser, a habit that had been formed from surfing. He used any excuse to hit the waves. Sometimes he even paddled out on moonlit nights.
He squinted. “I better go now, before we start arguing again and blow this whole deal.”
“Good call.” She agreed that it was safer for him to leave while they were on a positive note.
She walked him to the door, and the moment turned awkward. He leaned forward to hug her, but then he pulled back, as if it might not be a very platonic thing to do. In their case, he was right to keep his distance. She didn’t need to feel his big, broad body next to hers.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.
“You, too.” She watched him descend the steps and retreat to the town car waiting for him.
Was initiating a friendship with him the smartest course of action? She wasn’t altogether sure, but she’d already made the offer, and she was going to follow through.
No matter how difficult it proved to be.
Two
After Zeke left, Margot headed over to Bailey’s house. He’d been right about her wanting to see his sister. But she wasn’t going there to bitch. She needed a bit of girl talk.
Bailey was a screenwriter who worked predominantly from home, and as long as she wasn’t on a pressing deadline, she made herself available to Margot.
They both lived in the Hollywood Hills, only in different neighborhoods. Margot resided in Whitley Heights, a historic district built during the rise of the motion picture industry, and Bailey was in Laurel Canyon, a mountainous area rooted in the 1960s and ’70s counterculture.
Margot took the winding road that led to Bailey’s house, a woodsy cabin perched on a hill, surrounded by herbs, flowers and dense foliage. Zeke’s sister valued her privacy, something she shared with her brother. Neither of them had basked in the spotlight of their mother’s fame. Zeke had reacted to it by building a personal protection empire, and Bailey took refuge in the isolation of writing.
Margot liked being in the public eye. She enjoyed posing for pictures and chatting with fans and walking red carpets. She was nowhere near as famous as Eva Mitchell, though. Zeke and Bailey’s mother had been a world-renowned sex symbol in her day. Even now, she was still revered for her beauty.
Margot parked on Bailey’s narrow street and made her way to the back of the cabin. Bailey said that she would be working outside today.
Sure enough, there she was curled up in a hammock with her laptop. She didn’t look anything like Zeke. She didn’t have his tense personality, either. Bailey was a petite, blue-eyed blonde with an easy nature. She sported a casual style, too. Sometimes she dressed up, but mostly she gravitated to sweats and sneakers, or cutoff shorts and sandals.
“I’m here,” Margot announced.
“I know.” Bailey glanced over and grinned. “I saw you out of the corner of my eye.” She closed her laptop and got to her feet.
Margot moved toward her for a hug. Bailey always smelled so soft and natural. In her spare time, she concocted soaps and lotions and organic potions.
They embraced, and Bailey said, “I made lemonade.” She gestured to the fruit trees in her yard. “Fresh from the source.”
“Thanks. I’ll try to make this visit short.”
“No problem. I have time.” Bailey removed the lemonade from a boxy little fridge in the entertainment area. She poured two glasses and placed them on a wood table surrounded by chairs decorated with floral-printed cushions.
They sat across from each other. On this bright spring day, the sun shined gloriously over the hills. In the silence that followed, Bailey tucked a strand of her honey-colored hair behind her ear. The silky strands were so long, they skimmed her tailbone. Margot had to work a lot harder on her hair, thick and wavy as it was, putting product on it to keep it from frizzing. But the unruliness suited her, so she didn’t mind.
She gave herself another reflective second to breathe before she said, “I broke off my affair with Zeke.”
“Oh, wow. You did it. You actually did it.” Bailey paused. “I loved having you as my sister-in-law, and I wished your marriage would’ve worked, but I’m relieved that you finally ended that crazy affair.”
“I knew you would be. You kept telling me how emotionally damaging you thought it was for me to keep sleeping with him.”
“I told Zeke the same thing. In my opinion, it wasn’t good for either of you. Of course, as hardheaded as my brother is, he wouldn’t listen to a thing I had to say.” She leaned forward. “How did he take it?”
“Not well at first. We got into an argument over the past, but then we decided to try to be friends.”
Bailey’s eyes went wide. “You both decided that?”
“It was my suggestion, but he agreed to give it a go. I’m going to stop by his condo tomorrow to talk more about it.”
“No offense, but you better not end up back in his bed.”
“No offense taken. And for the record, he tried to get me to be with him today, but I turned him down.”
“I’m glad to hear it. But just be careful, okay? Old habits and all of that.”
Old habits, indeed. Their affair had started on an evening where they’d met up to discuss business. She’d wanted to use a different security service after the divorce, but he’d insisted that she stay with his company. At some point, they’d gotten into a raging fight that had culminated in a wild bout of sex. “I swear, I’m not going to do anything stupid.”
Bailey laughed a little. “Well, I think you being his friend sounds kind of stupid.”
Margot laughed, too. But only for a moment. Turning serious, she said, “There came a point when he made the choice to stop loving me, and when I stopped loving him, too. But we never got closure after the divorce. Instead, we just kept sleeping together.”
“So, if you learn to become friends, you’ll both get the closure you need?”
“It’s worth a try.” Margot sipped her lemonade. “Remember that crush I had on him when we were kids?”
Bailey crinkled her nose. “How could I forget? He was all you ever talked about. I wanted to jump off a bridge whenever you cooed his name.”
“I know. I’m sorry for putting you through that. But the first time I saw him, so tall and dark and broody, I nearly melted on the spot. He wasn’t nearly as impressed with me.”
“He thought you were a pest back then.”
“I was, I suppose. A gangly fourteen-year-old, fresh from a canceled sitcom, mooning over my best friend’s brother. He was a freshman in college, and there I was, giggling and acting silly, trying to get his attention.”
“You finally got old enough for him to take an interest in you.”
“Sometimes I think it would have been easier if we’d never gotten together at all. Having a crush on him was bad enough, but the way I loved him later on...”
His sister sighed. “Yes, but look at you now. A strong and successful single mom. I’m proud of how far you’ve come.”
“Thank you. I appreciate you saying that.” And once she tackled this friendship thing with Zeke, she intended to become even stronger, conquering her hunger for him for good.
* * *
The following morning, Margot was on her way, ready to face Zeke. She stopped at a trendy food truck near his place that specialized in healthy meals and gourmet coffee. The female server recognized her and asked for a selfie. She happily obliged, flashing her best smile.
She returned to her car and continued her journey. The home she and Zeke used to own together wasn’t far from here, but she avoided going down that street. She didn’t need the reminder that they were once married.
Zeke’s modern-style condo faced the ocean. After she arrived, she approached his private deck, a low-maintenance area with a fire ring, a grouping of lounge chairs and a mosaic-topped table. He could’ve afforded to buy her out and keep their other house, but he’d decided to start over somewhere new. Hence, this cool, sleek bachelor pad.
She set everything down and rang the bell. She waited, but he didn’t answer. Had he slept in after all? She tried a second time. Then a third. Seriously, how tired could he be?
She fired off a text. I’m outside your door. Where are you?
Again, she waited. But he didn’t reply.
At this point, she was getting downright miffed. Zeke used to say that her fiery disposition matched her hair. But today she had good reason for being mad. She’d come all this way, only to be shunned by him.
She turned to gather the bags and leave, when she spotted him on the beach with his surfboard propped in the sand. She hadn’t even thought to look for him out there, even if it was the most logical place for him to be.
As she watched him peel off his wetsuit, her heart began to pound. He was wearing shorts underneath, but just the act of him undressing was enough to send her into a tailspin.
He turned and noticed her. They stared at each other from across the distance. He headed in her direction, and she unpacked the food, setting up their meal on the table.
When he got closer, she noticed how tight his shorts were. Well, of course they were snug. They were Lycra. He never wore board shorts under his wetsuit; they bunched too much.
“I’m sorry if I kept you waiting,” he said.
She was doing her damnedest not to drool. All that brawny muscle. All that masculine beauty. Was it any wonder that she’d kept sleeping with him after the divorce? “I texted you. But I didn’t realize that you were on the beach.”
“I didn’t bring my phone with me. Do you want to come in while I get dressed?”
“No, thanks. I’ll stay here.” She didn’t want to be anywhere near him when he took off those skintight shorts. She was already struggling to block that image from her wayward mind.
He gripped his board. “I’m not going to shower. I can do that later.”
She actually would’ve preferred that he showered. To her, the scent of the sea on his skin was just another aphrodisiac. “You don’t have to rush on my account.”
“But I kept you waiting. I’m just going to put on some clothes. I’ll be right back.”
He entered the condo, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She sipped her coffee and gazed out at the ocean, trying to stay calm. Her mind was still misbehaving. She couldn’t stop thinking about his body-hugging shorts. The surfer-boy smell of his skin. The affair she was already missing.
He returned, dressed in faded jeans, a dark blue pullover and slip-on sneakers. Margot was wearing a standard gray hoodie. It was a chilly spring morning, but it was supposed to warm up later.
“How long do we have?” he asked.
She blinked. “What?”
“Before you have to leave for the studio.”
She checked her phone for the time. “About thirty minutes.” Which seemed like an eternity now.
He sat across from her. “Thank you for this. I’m starving. I don’t have any groceries in the house. I plan to go shopping later, though.”
She watched him attack his food. They were having the same thing to eat: egg-and-cheese burritos, sautéed sweet potatoes and fresh fruit. Their drinks were different. Hers was a café mocha, and his was a dead eye: a regular coffee with three shots of espresso. She knew his tastes. The man definitely liked it strong.
He finished chewing a mouthful of burrito and gulped his coffee. “Can I ask you something that I’ve been wondering about for a while?” He placed his cup back on the table. “Have you been with anyone else, besides me, since the divorce?”
Margot nearly flinched. That was what he was curious about? Other partners? “We agreed back then that our affair wasn’t going to be exclusive.”
“Yeah, but now that it’s over, I was hoping it would be okay to talk more about it.”
Stalling, she took a small bite of her potatoes. She hadn’t been with anyone else, but she didn’t want him to perceive it as loyalty. Or some sort of misguided feelings for him that still lingered.
