It was a dare.
Subtly, he was asking if she was woman enough to rise to the challenge of winning his heart.
The answer was yes. Yes, she was.
Eight
After an excellent night of sleep, Kris flipped on the water in the shower and experienced a moment of pure shock when he realized the buoyancy to his step was happiness.
VJ was so unlike other women. Challenging. Provoking. Exciting. He loved being around her. He hadn’t consciously planned to ditch the engagement, but she’d been so broken up about kissing him, the words had fallen out of his mouth. And the weight lifted instantly.
He hated the idea of manipulating the public with a fictitious engagement between the star and the director of a movie. How had it taken this long to realize it? There had to be a different publicity angle because he wasn’t doing the fake engagement. Now or ever. A desert mirage in an orange pickup truck had knocked some sense into his head.
What was wrong with selling tickets by promoting Visions of Black as a good film? He’d gladly work eighteen hours a day to generate that kind of publicity. Talk shows, viral campaigns via the internet, free early screenings. He’d find something Abrams and Kyla could agree to, even if he had to walk Ventura Boulevard with a bullhorn.
Kyla was going to be royally pissed but he’d deal with it. Visions would be good for her career, and she’d see that. He’d help her see that.
With all the complications out of the way, he could focus on VJ. He wanted to pick up where that Ferris-wheel kiss had ended. Right now.
Given her serious romantic fantasies, five bucks said temporary wasn’t in her vocabulary. Permanent wasn’t in his. Couldn’t be in his. Which meant he had to back off. Way off. He’d laid out his availability for whatever she could cook up. Now it was up to her to decide if she’d jump into a short-term affair. She had to make the move. Period.
He got out of the shower, ran a brush through his hair and dressed quickly, eager to see VJ and not about to apologize for it. When he emerged from his room, she was sitting at the table, staring out the window at the downtown vista. Rush-hour haze still smudged the tops of the skyscrapers, though it was nearing noon.
“Good morning,” he said.
Her hair was damp, as if she’d recently emerged from the shower, as well. Where she’d been naked and wet. Not a good image to fixate on before coffee and after deciding to back off.
“Hey.” She didn’t even glance at him.
Okay. Calling off the engagement should have eliminated tension, not added it.
He tried again. “What’s on your agenda for the day?”
“Job hunting. I guess.” Her posture put steel to shame, and her hands were clenched into a tight ball in her lap.
The day had started off with such promise—at least on his part. Where had all the easy intimacy between them gone? Out the window, apparently, now that he’d drawn the short-term-only line.
He’d known it would likely go this way, but, selfishly, he wanted the spark without having to promise her more. As brightly as the attraction burned between them, he’d have a hard enough time keeping himself under control in the short-term.
“Didn’t you mention in the car earlier that tomorrow is your birthday?” At her hesitant nod, he pulled out his phone and checked his schedule. “That calls for a celebration. Let me take you to dinner tonight.”
“Thanks. Maybe some other time.”
Some other time. He’d expected a resounding no. He hadn’t expected it to suck so much. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
“Kris.” She shut her eyes for a beat. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
Of course she didn’t. Instantly, he scrapped all his plans for the day, including the two hours he’d blocked to check out casting videos his assistant had sent. Some sacrifices were worth it. VJ deserved more than just dinner. She deserved a fairy tale, and he was going to give her one, whether she agreed to short-term or not. “I’ll take you shopping. Consider it part of your birthday present.”
Finally, she swiveled. “Don’t guys hate shopping?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. I hate traffic, too, but it’s unavoidable if I want to get somewhere.”
“So shopping is a means to an end?”
Her tone prickled the back of his neck. “An unfortunate analogy. I’m fully prepared for you to shut your door at the end of the night.” There was nothing wrong, however, with hoping they’d be on the same side of the door. “I want to do something nice for you. Is that really so awful?”
“No. It’s not.” Suddenly, she smiled, and the light returned to her face, thumping him right between the eyes. That alone was worth getting behind on his long task list.