“I can name quite a few people, and I’m sure there are many more that I can’t name. You could have met me in other ways.” Though he’d verbally ignored my comment about his appearance, his mouth twitched ever so slightly letting me know it had pleased him.
Why did that make my belly flutter?
It didn’t. It was nerves. It had to be. I transferred the emotion to my words, letting my voice get breathy and unsteady. “I wanted to meet you alone. Without your goons and your public.”
“A lot of people would be scared to be with me alone.”
“Who said I wasn’t scared?” I should have been scared. He had a reputation that, as far as I could gather, was either completely fabricated or totally underplayed. The former was more likely, but what if it was the latter? What if I was truly unsafe in his presence?
It was also possible that I was scared. In all honesty, it was probably the core of his allure. But I couldn’t let fear or captivation take over. I had no other choice but to see my plan through. For Amber.
Reeve tilted his head. “That’s an interesting combination of traits – a stalker who’s scared.”
“Only scared enough to make it fun.” Strange that I once lived for that kind of scared. “And not a stalker, Mr. Sallis. I merely have a curiosity that gets away from me.”
“I like your curiosity. And your philosophy on fear.” He shifted gears again. “I think I may have started off with the wrong line of questioning. I don’t even know who you are.”
He removed his sunglasses, and I couldn’t help but gasp. His eyes… At the surface, they didn’t seem special on their own. A common blue and gray that could be easy to overlook. His brows were the prominent feature, what most people likely noticed. They were thick and arched. They darkened his expression and distracted from what lay in the icy pools below them.
But his eyes caught me. There was something I recognized in them – a sorrow or a longing that was both gripping and haunting.
I saw myself in those eyes.
Reeve noticed. As soon as he did, he looked away, scanning the horizon. I didn’t blame him. Small as it was, it had been a revealing moment. Far too intimate for strangers.
When he turned toward me again, he’d hidden whatever it was that I’d seen. “There’s something familiar about you, though. We haven’t slept together, have we?”
I laughed. “No, we haven’t.”
“Good.” He clarified before I could feign indignation. “I mean, I’d hate myself if I’d forgotten you.”
“You haven’t. And you won’t. Forget me, I mean.” I meant to allude that we’d sleep together eventually. It was as close to offering myself as I’d get. Anything more would be slutty and set me up as one-night-stand material. I needed to be more like flavor of the month.
More important, at the moment, was the delivery of my name. I had to be honest – I was too recognizable not to be. There was no reason to be deceitful about it anyway. If Amber had mentioned me ever, she would have used my real last name, not the one I’d taken on when I’d reinvented myself. There was a chance, of course, that she’d figured out my new identity. A possibility she’d mentioned it in passing – Oh, that girl? You know, the voice on that sitcom? I used to know her…
It was a risk I had to take. I extended my hand. “It’s Emily. Emily Wayborn.”
Reeve hesitated – was he as determined to be in control of our first contact as I was?
Whatever his reluctance, he quickly overcame it, taking my palm in his. His grip was strong and sure and aggressive. Almost too tight, but just barely not. He held it without saying anything for several seconds, and, I don’t know how – somehow, though – I knew he was making his own allusion. His own promise. He wanted me to know what he’d be like.
In bed.
With me.
He’d be powerful and controlling and forceful, even. Almost too forceful, but just barely not.
Was that how he’d been with her? Did almost become too much?
I couldn’t let myself go there. So instead of entertaining the thought further, I entertained a new one – Reeve Sallis had good hands. Really good hands.
After what seemed like ages and yet not nearly long enough, he let my hand go. “A qualified pleasure, Emily Wayborn. Qualified because you did interrupt my swim time.”
“Qualified pleasure is the only kind I seem to give.” That had come out dirtier than I’d intended. Or maybe exactly as dirty as I’d intended. God, my confidence in flirting was nil. “Anyway, I get the familiar thing a lot.”
“It wasn’t a line.”
“I know.” Though for half a second I worried he found me familiar for other reasons. Because I was like Amber. We’d been inseparable and so much alike at one time, everyone thought we were sisters. But that was years ago. I’d changed so much, even if she’d stayed exactly the same.
No, it was the other reason he found me familiar. “It’s because I’m famous.” I sounded embarrassed because I was. “My voice is famous. I’m the computer on NextGen.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope.” I took a deep breath and then repeated my famous catch phrase in the lilting tone I saved for the show. “User error.”
He laughed. Heartily. Like, full belly laugh.
Really, it was funny. All the years I’d worked to keep my figure, going to audition after audition trying to land my big break, and when I finally did it was in a role that only utilized my vocal cords. The hit show of the past two seasons, NextGen was the story of a family living in the not-too-distant future. Pitched as the movie Her meets the old cartoon The Jetsons, I played the part of the household mainframe – the computer that controlled each and every aspect of their lives. Practically overnight I was recognized by thousands, but only when I spoke.