Not totally fair, because I truly couldn’t live without my lip balm—yes, I was a police officer; no, I hadn’t completely forgotten how to be a woman—and that was inside my black leather bag. But, aside from my ID and my cell phone, there wasn’t anything else useful.
Except . . . for the snacks I always packed.
A woman never knew when she might get hangry.
I almost laughed out loud.
This was so like me. Make an all-out declaration—even a mental one—and then find all the ways to undermine it.
I can’t take off work to go to Maggie’s engagement party in California.
But they have Disneyland. And beaches. And Death Valley. And—
Okay, I’ll take a vacation out of the bank of days I never actually use, dip into my savings because I can get mouse ears and see some cacti.
So really, the last thing I needed was to go back and encounter Talbot.
It would start off with something like, He’s one of the biggest movie stars on the planet, I can’t possibly think that he might be interested in me. To he seems really nice and is a good friend to Maggie. To let me pledge to this man my undying love, no matter that he’ll probably shred my heart into tiny little pieces in the process.
See?
Dangerous man.
Or perhaps, I was the dangerous one. As in being dangerous to myself, being so damned tempted to undermine the safeguards I’d put into place.
Yup. That, too.
Rolling my shoulders, I approached the gate and waved at the security guard. “Can I get out? My car’s down the road.”
He nodded, cracked the gate enough so I could slip out.
“Hey.” Fingers caught my arm, and I resisted the urge to immediately knock them off, instead turning to see Talbot.
My body knew his, even before I recognized his voice, heat curling in my abdomen, flaring out to my fingertips, making my breath catch in my lungs, my lips tingle. “Hi,” I said, keeping my tone formal through pure dint of strength. “Did you need something?”
A smile that threatened to melt my bones from the inside out. “Yeah.”
I lifted my brows, waited.
“Well, you going to tell me what that is?” I asked with impatience when he just kept looking at me.
“Yeah,” he said again.
And still just staring at me.
I spun to leave, this time my movement knocking his hand free.
“A ride,” he said, just as I stepped through the gate.
My feet froze, and I slowly turned back. “A ride?” I repeated. He nodded. “To where?” I asked suspiciously.
“My home.”
Alarm bells, all sorts of alarm bells began to blare in my mind.
“Didn’t you drive here?”
A shrug. “I think I drank too much. An officer such as yourself wouldn’t want an inebriated driver on the road, would you?”
I knew he was playing me.
But I couldn’t think of anything to say that might get me out of spending however long it might take to drive this man home, so in the end, I just nodded and started walking again, my heels click-clicking on the pavement.
And Talbot walked silently next to me, not saying another word. Yet I couldn’t help but continue to peek out of the corner of my eye and watch him as he glanced up at the sky, the clouds making most of it hazy, the stars dreamily blinking behind the gray swathe. The moon was beautiful, though, shining golden and bright through the drape of atmosphere, and I could understand why he kept looking up.
“It reminds me of home,” I whispered.
“The sky?” he asked.
I nodded. “It’s so big sometimes, the moon so bright, that it’s easy to get lost in the glimmers, to try to track every one of them with my eyes.” A chuckle. “Even though I think it would take me a lifetime to attempt it.”
He was quiet for several moments, then, “On nights like this, when the smog clears and there’s nothing but the night sky, even cloudy, I remember being a little kid and feeling the same way.”
A little kid.
He hadn’t meant it as an insult, I knew that much. He wasn’t a jerk, wouldn’t intentionally make me feel bad.
But it did all the same.
Because it was another reminder that I was a backward non-Hollywood type, thinking and feeling the way this man had when he was a child. And I hated that I felt that way, that I felt insecure. I knew who I was, and I was fine with that.
I cleared my throat. “How far away do you live?”
Silence.
Then fingers on my arm, not holding me in place, but brushing lightly over the back of my arm. “What did I say?” he asked.
I blinked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Those fingers wrapped around my wrist, exerted the barest amount of pressure. “I hurt your feelings.”
Laughter, forced, escaped my lips. “No, you didn’t. I’m just tired and ready to be in my hotel room.”
“Hmm.”
But he didn’t say anything further as we approached my rental and I bleeped the locks. I started to reach for the handle, only his hand was there before mine, and my fingers brushed the hot skin there as he tugged the door open.
I have to admit that I froze.
I wasn’t used to men opening doors for me. I did that myself, and it wasn’t like my colleagues were dashing in front of me to let me into my squad car.
“Did you . . . want to get in?” he asked softly, making me realize that I’d been standing there making a fool out of myself. Again.
Ugh.
I straightened my shoulders, sank down in the driver’s seat, and I made a promise right there and then that there would be no more insecurities. I’d had my couple of hours of discomfort and self-doubt, and that was more than enough. Time to pull my shit together.
And I was doing that . . . right around the moment Talbot leaned over me and buckled my seat belt.
All the air froze in my lungs, a large inhale
