Chapter 5

Lucy watched as one of the extras—Meredith? Marianne?—slid her hand up Hayden’s arms and batted her fake eyelashes. Not that Lucy had anything against fake eyelashes, but this M-named woman looked so fake overall that the eyelashes were the cherry on top.

“If you glare any harder, you’re going to singe a hole in her arm,” said Erin.

“I’m not glaring.”

“Okay. Staring, gazing upon. Whatever term you wanna use, babe. But don’t be too obvious.”

Lucy forced herself to turn her head so she could no longer see what Hayden was doing. She’d thought they were connecting earlier. But then Hayden had gotten distracted. Lucy couldn’t compete against multiple other women vying for his attention, not unless she did something crazy, like flash him.

She wasn’t yet so desperate as to show him her breasts in public, thank God. The green snake of jealousy still slithered around inside her, especially when she heard Hayden laugh.

“Didn’t you think there’s something between us?” said Lucy. “He was talking to me most of all tonight.”

Erin stirred her drink. “He did seem interested in you,” she conceded, “but you’re also a beautiful woman. Everyone knows Hayden Masterson loves his pretty ladies.”

“I’m more than that, though. We were talking about our favorite movies. His favorite actor is Al Pacino. He told me he’s seen Scarface at least fifty times; he has almost the whole movie memorized.”

Erin wrinkled her nose. “Scarface? Isn’t that every guy’s favorite movie besides Fight Club?”

Lucy stuck her tongue out at her friend. Okay, his favorite movie choice wasn’t all that inspiring, but Lucy didn’t care. She wanted him to turn his attention back to her. She wanted to keep talking about movies and acting and scripts and whether Stanislavski or Meisner had had the right idea when it came to acting methods. She wanted him to gaze down at her with those golden eyes that made her shiver.

“Don’t you get it?” whispered Lucy as she once again turned to look at Hayden. “He’s…amazing.”

Erin let out a low groan, which Lucy pointedly ignored. Her drink empty, she rose to get another and to divert Hayden away from that fake leggy blonde.

Right as Lucy approached, Hayden stood, his arm around the blonde. Before Lucy could react, Hayden and the blonde walked out of the bar, a car’s engine signaling that they were most likely not coming back.

Lucy felt like she’d swallowed a rock. It doesn’t mean anything. He hasn’t gotten to know you yet. She’d known Hayden was a player. Well, she couldn’t judge him for that. Not that she was a player—she’d had three boyfriends since high school—but she understood why someone would be. Fame was a lonely thing: you were surrounded by people, yet who could you trust?

Lucy reassured herself with those thoughts, but they didn’t make her feel much better. Getting another drink, she wandered to a back hallway, which was blessedly quiet. She leaned against the wall and sighed.

“You know, guys like Hayden aren’t into women throwing themselves at him,” said a voice in the shadows. A voice that seemed intent on following Lucy everywhere she went.

This time, she wasn’t even surprised: merely irritated. And embarrassed that he’d been paying attention to her attempt at flirting with Hayden.

“Did I ask for your opinion?” she said. She scowled. “Where are you, anyway? Why are you standing in the dark?”

Carter emerged from the shadows, a beer in his hand. “I could ask you the same question.”

“I needed a breather. It’s loud in there.”

It was strange, but the dim light seemed to make Carter taller, almost intimidating. Then again, he didn’t have his usual smirk on his face. He was all stoicism, his brow furrowed as he leaned against the opposite wall from Lucy and crossed his arms.

“Did he go home with her?” he said quietly.

Lucy stilled, the hairs on the back of her neck lifting. She didn’t answer for a long moment, struggling against the desire to toss her drink into his face. But suddenly the fight went out of her as she remembered Hayden putting his arm around the leggy blonde.

“He’s not home here,” she said lamely. “But they did leave together, if that’s what you’re wondering. Why? Do you like her?”

“I don’t even know her name.”

Lucy snorted. “Does it matter?”

“What a cynical girl you are.”

She rubbed a finger against the condensation on her glass. “What did you mean? About men like Hayden?”

“Exactly what I said. Men like him want to chase a woman. A woman who makes things easy is boring.”

Lucy bristled. “I’m not easy.”

To her surprise, Carter seemed embarrassed. “I didn’t mean—I just meant men like to chase a woman for a little bit. It’s an instinctual thing.”

Lucy’s head started hurting. Mostly, she was confused. “Are you giving me advice?”

Carter finally smiled, but it had a tinge of bitterness to it. “Am I? I guess so.”

He stood up from the wall and moved closer to Lucy. Now she could smell the remnants of his cologne, and now that he was closer to one of the lights overhead, she could make out the stubble on his cheeks and jaw.

She looked away. She didn’t need to think about Carter as a man. He was a jerk—nothing more, nothing less.

“You want my advice?” he said quietly. “Make Hayden work for it. You’re too obvious around him.”

“I am not obvious!”

“Little spitfire, everyone in the bar could see your googly eyes for that guy. It was rather nauseating, in an adorable kind of way. Kind of like how a puppy idolizes its master. Sweet, adorable—but not alluring.”

Lucy hissed out a breath. She had the sudden urge to push Carter away from her, but he was so much taller and bigger than her that it would be like a fly pushing at an elephant. Annoying for the elephant, pointless for the fly.

“You know what you should do?” said Carter, despite Lucy’s lack of reply.

He tipped back his beer and swallowed. Lucy couldn’t help but watch the muscles in his throat, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. Something hot and heavy pooled in her belly.

“You need to make Hayden jealous. Men can’t stand when they can’t have something—or someone. Right now, you’re too available. You’re easy. No, don’t get your feathers ruffled. You know what I mean.” Carter put his hand on the wall above Lucy’s head, effectively caging her in. She couldn’t look away from the intensity in his gaze.

“What are you saying?” she whispered.

“Be my girlfriend. Then watch Hayden fall at your feet.”

Lucy wondered if she was hallucinating from too much alcohol. She blinked, then blinked again, but Carter still stood over her, serious as ever.

“Are you drunk?” she said. “You are. You’re messing with me because you think I’m stupid and easy—”

“I’m not drunk.” He looked at his empty glass. “Okay, I might be a bit buzzed. But that’s it. I’m in my right mind.”

“Do you have a ‘right’ mind?”

“Touché. But you didn’t answer my question. Let’s date. Make a show of things. You’re an actress, so it should be easy.”

Lucy couldn’t breathe. Ducking under his arm, she darted down the hallway. Carter, of course, followed her.

“Why would you want to do this? What’s in it for you?” she said.

“The goodness of my heart? Wanting to see true love find its course?” He shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah, it kind of does.”

His lips quirked in that smile that drove her insane. He lifted her chin, his touch gentle but inexorable. “You’re right: I don’t care about charity.”

“What do you care about?” Her voice was breathless, her heart pounding.

His finger trailed down her throat until he pulled away. She told herself she wasn’t disappointed by it.

“How about we make this into a bet between each other?”

“What would I win?”

“Hayden, of course. Isn’t that what you want most?” His tone was mocking. “But I won’t lose. Because there’s no way you’ll choose Hayden over me.” He pressed closer until Lucy was forced against the wall. Only a finger’s breadth kept them apart. “You’ll tell yourself none of this is real, that it’s all a play. But soon you won’t be able to tell what’s real and what’s not. And when I kiss you, you’ll only want me to keep doing it, Hayden be damned.”

“You’re insane,” she whispered.

“Probably.”

They gazed at each other until Lucy was certain the temperature in the hallway had increased by several degrees. She couldn’t help but look at his mouth, wondering what it would be liked to be kissed by this egotistical, cocky asshole.

She shouldn’t, she knew. If Anthony and Thea found out… but why would they? They were in Seattle and had their own company to run. And it wasn’t like Lucy wasn’t an adult who could make her own decisions.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” said Carter.

“What if Anthony finds out?” She said the words before she could think of a reason why she shouldn’t.

Carter frowned. “What if he does? Is he somebody to you?”

Lucy shivered inwardly at the edge in Carter’s voice. “It’s just that he’s dating my sister Thea.”

Carter stared at her for a long moment until he let out an incredulous laugh. “Anthony is dating your sister? Fuck me. I should’ve known.” He peered at her, as if he were seeing her in a new light. “I see the resemblance. You look just like her.” He added in a lower voice, “Let them think what they want. You’re a big girl, aren’t you?”

Lucy stiffened her spine. He was right, damn him. Thea and Anthony could say whatever they wanted; she wasn’t beholden to them. And she wasn’t about to let the gauntlet Carter had thrown down be ignored.

“You’re wrong. I won’t fall for you, because I’m stronger than you think. Besides, why would I fall for a guy who I hate with every fiber of my being?” she said.

“So then what do you have to lose?”

It was crazy, insane, it would end badly, it couldn’t work—every excuse that fluttered into Lucy’s brain tried to get her to say no. To walk away, go back to the bed-and-breakfast, and never think of this bizarre conversation ever again.

But Lucy hadn’t gotten where she was in life without taking some insane risks. What was one more?

“Fine,” she said. “Then we have a deal.”

Carter’s eyebrows rose, as if he were surprised. Then he stepped away and put out his hand. “Deal.”

She shook his hand, ignoring how the slide of his palm against hers made her heart flutter. She imagined silk sheets, kisses down her torso, his hands gliding across her skin.

“We’re not sleeping together, just so you know,” she blurted.

He smiled. “You keep telling yourself that, little spitfire, if it makes you feel safe at night.”

Carter didn’t know what time it was when he fell into his bed that night. He was drunk, and he had one particular little spitfire on his mind that made practical matters seem pointless. What did it matter if it was two in the morning and he had to be up by eight o’clock?

He could feel the softness of Lucy’s skin even now. He wondered if she was lying in her own bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what the hell she’d gotten herself into.

He chuckled. His head spun a little. His bottom lip was numb. That was never a good sign of sobriety. But at the moment, he didn’t give two shits that he’d have a nice hangover in a few hours.

Carter fell asleep on top of his comforter. That was when the dreams came.

The dreams had begun to leave him alone, but this particular one was always the same. He was in the Orcas’ stadium, practicing his pitch. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and the smell of dirt and turf anchored him. His muscles ached; his shoulder smarted. But that meant he was doing something right. He’d been pushing his body for years, and it had always paid off.

Carter lifted his right arm and threw. The number on the board: ninety-nine miles per hour. He’d thrown one hundred miles per hour three times today, but he hadn’t been that fast in the last five throws.

What do you think about Takahashi throwing 103?

He’s coming for your spot, isn’t he, Carter?

Fuck Takahashi, thought Carter. He wasn’t going to let some newbie eclipse him—even if he was on another team. Even if Carter had been chosen as MVP twice already. He could always be better.

What’s wrong with you? Don’t be a pussy. I didn’t raise my son to give up when things got fucking hard.

Carter always heard his father’s voice in his head. Mike Roberts had loved alcohol almost as much as he’d loved baseball—almost, but not quite. When Carter had shown promise as a kid, Mike had been the one who’d pushed Carter every step of the way.

Mike had yelled at Carter’s coaches when they hadn’t lived up to Mike’s impossible standards. He’d drunk entire six-packs of beers as he’d sat in the stands, yelling at Carter to get his ass in gear. Carter couldn’t remember how many times his father had been asked to leave Carter’s Little League games for being disruptive, sometimes to the point of making other kids cry.

Carter, though, he never cried. He hadn’t cried since he’d been five years old.

Carter had made a name for himself, even as a kid. He’d gone to college on a baseball scholarship, playing college ball, then the minor leagues, until he’d been drafted by the major leagues and played for New York before being traded to the Seattle Orcas two years ago.

But now Carter’s position was threatened. He wasn’t throwing like he used to due to tendonitis in his shoulder. He’d gone to rehab; he’d worked with a trainer for months. The injury wasn’t severe, but it was enough to literally throw him off his game.

Carter threw again: ninety-seven. He scowled, anger building inside him. He hated this feeling, that he was losing control of his own fucking life.

Man up, Carter. Get it the fuck together. Carter kept hearing his father’s words in his head, over and over again, like a messed-up mantra.

You aren’t anything without baseball. You’re not smart. This is your one chance to make something of yourself.

And Carter could feel his career slipping away.

Pissed off and tired, Carter threw one last time that day. He threw harder than he ever had, and his already injured shoulder couldn’t take the strain. Carter heard the snap before the pain slammed into him.

Carter awoke with a gasp, covered in a cold sweat. His shoulder ached, as if he’d really been pitching in his dream. Sitting up, he put his head in his hands, nausea roiling through him.

Light leaked through the curtains. How long had he slept? Based on the headache pounding in his temples, it had been long enough for the buzz of alcohol to wear off.

Carter stumbled to the bathroom and showered until the water began to turn cold. After taking some painkillers and drinking an entire bottle of water, he felt a little better. But the dream still clung to him like a vine, wrapping around him until it was like his heart was in a vise.

He leaned over the bathroom counter and took in deep breaths. “Just a dream, just a dream,” he muttered over and over.

He hadn’t had that particular dream in a few weeks. He didn’t know what would’ve brought it back like this. Then again, he should’ve known drinking like that last night would have consequences.

Consequences—shit, Lucy. He groaned. Had he really…what? Propositioned her? Except it would be for a fake relationship, so he wouldn’t be getting anything out of it if Lucy had her way.

He was an idiot, but he couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled in his throat. In vino veritas, indeed. He’d been pissed, watching Lucy throw herself at Hayden Masterson, and Carter had decided the next best thing was to help her make Hayden jealous.

Yes, that made perfect sense. It had when he’d been hazy with alcohol, at least.

Should he tell her the deal was off? But he pushed that thought aside. Besides, he was confident that after Lucy had spent time with him, she’d forget all about Hayden. Carter wasn’t a famous playboy for nothing, and he would love to watch Hayden Masterson squirm with jealousy.

It was time for revenge, and Carter was more than ready to win this game.