The Movie Star's Red Hot Holiday Fling(28)

But Jessie refused to believe his motivation for writing the story based on the few paragraphs she’d read today. And she’d cast him aside as if he were trash.

Blake moved to the bar, poured a Scotch, and downed half of the top-shelf brand. Then he carried the rest of the drink over to the desk and opened his laptop. Scrolling through the screenplay, the words on the screen blurred. If only he had told her about what he’d planned, but the time had never been right. At least that was the excuse he kept telling himself whenever the opportunity arrived.

In truth, he’d withheld the facts because he was shit scared of her reaction. The memory of another girl’s mockery when he’d opened up to her about his dreams flashed. She’d called him a pretty boy and said he’d never amount to much. Even his parents couldn’t understand his ambitions.

He’d set out to prove everyone wrong.

And he’d ended up becoming a cardboard action hero with few people he could trust. He was alone in a crowd that cared more about what he could give them than about the man they claimed to adore.

He pushed out of his chair and walked to the window. The sun’s last, glimmering rays cast shadows among the evergreens and the oak trees’ skeletal branches. Snow covered the resort’s expansive grounds, shrouding them. Yesterday, he’d felt triumphant about the studio caving to all his demands. Now a weight pressed against his chest, and he ached for the one person he had wanted to surprise with this news.

He’d lost sight of what was important even when he’d been presented with the gift of unconditional acceptance the previous night. Jessie had told him that he was a man of honor, worthy of love. Yet, he’d stopped himself from telling her about the script because, deep down, he was still that ragtag, latchkey kid with holes in his sneakers and thrift shop outfits who would never amount to anything important.

Jessie had been different from the start. She didn’t fawn over him or cut him slack just because he was a Hollywood icon. She respected him for the man he was.

Only to have him squander her loyalty with a lie by omission.

He finished the drink and pressed the glass to his forehead. Water beaded on the brim, trickled down his face. Licking his lips, he tasted salt. He swiped his shirt sleeve across his face, erasing the moisture.

He returned to the desk, and a flicker of light caught his eye. Bending, he located the source. Jessie’s medal. Blake picked it up and turned the gold medal heart over in his palm, taking in the five stars and the purple ribbon edged in silver. She’d risked her life for her country and had been ready to risk her heart. Though he hadn’t expected their no-strings affair to transform into something more, he’d grown to care about Jessie. He hadn’t wanted to say good-bye in the new year, couldn’t envision being without her. But instead of offering her a commitment, he’d offered her a maybe. A job, when what he should have offered was his heart.

Even worse, he’d withheld something vital. He’d lied about why, telling himself it was to protect her. The truth slammed behind his solar plexus. He’d been a deluded idiot.

He might have triumphed over the powers that be at the studio, but he’d failed the only person who mattered.

He cursed himself for being all kinds of stupid. Jessie had bared her soul to him, and he’d never risked trusting her with his own.

He turned the medal again. It was cold to the touch, the ribbon a soft counterpoint to the steel. Much like Jessie. He loved the sparks in her slate-blue eyes when she thought he challenged her, the sweet surrender of her body to his in the dark of night. And he loved the unwavering, unconditional acceptance she’d given so readily when he’d confessed his confusion about his movie role and the life he’d chosen after his parents had died.

He loved her determination, grit, and strength.

Desolation arrowed straight through his chest cavity and into his heart. He loved Jessie. And damn it all to hell, he’d lost her. If he’d been honest with her from the beginning and had trusted her, he might not be throwing a personal shithead party for one.

Blake placed her Purple Heart next to his laptop and stared at it while considering his options. He’d return it, but first he had to break through her defenses. Because nothing he achieved in the future would matter if he didn’t have Jessie.

After opening his laptop, he sent the entire document to the lodge’s business office printer. Then he texted his sister and asked her to run interference. Finally, he placed a call to the rehab center and spoke with Constanza. He stood, praying his plan would work.

…

The following morning, Jessie woke before the crack of dawn. Lonely, her heart aching and bruised, she dressed in her usual gym gear and repeated her ongoing internal mantra as if she were fingering rosary beads. This was supposed to be only temporary. Just really great sex. Now it’s over.