Given her terse reply, it was no wonder she hadn’t mentioned the man during their conversation at The Perfect Blend.
He didn’t press for more details.
“Tell me how you got interested in acting.”
The tension around her mouth diminished a fraction. “I discovered theater in middle school, realized early on I had natural talent—and decided acting would be my ticket to improving my lot.”
“An ambitious goal, considering how difficult it is to succeed in that profession.”
“I know—but I was convinced I could do it. I worked hard to get a scholarship to college, earned my degree, and moved to LA. My goal was to win the adulation of millions and prove to the world I was somebody.” She sent him a sidelong glance. “Shallow, wasn’t it?”
“Not in light of your background.”
“Thanks for saying that—but it was shallow.” She watched the sandpiper dash away from an encroaching wave. “I’ve learned that the sort of adulation you get in Hollywood is empty and fleeting. Without substance. And I don’t like the flashy, ostentatious lifestyle.”
“Doesn’t that go with the territory?” He was no expert on Hollywood, but most show business folks appeared to be all about drama and flamboyance on and off stage.
“I didn’t think it had to. There are a few stars who manage to stay under the radar in their personal lives, mostly by avoiding controversy and scandal.”
“Unless those land on your doorstep.”
“Yeah.” She exhaled. “The tragedy with Jason changed everything—although to be honest, I was beginning to lose control of my privacy anyway. I live in a small, unpretentious condo, and I’ve had more than a few overzealous fans and media types finagle their way through our minimum security. It’s been much worse since Jason died.” A slight shiver rippled through her.
“Why don’t you move to a more secure place?”
“According to the gossip magazines, I’m cheap. But the truth is, I never had any desire to live in a mansion. All I wanted to do was acquire a sizeable nest egg so I’d never again have to worry about going to bed hungry or wearing secondhand clothes. Thankfully, I’ve achieved that. The TV series is lucrative, and I’ve saved most of my salary.”
“In other words, you have options. You could walk away tomorrow if you wanted to and not have to worry about money.”
“Yes—in theory.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “But after almost twenty years of single-minded effort to get an offer like the one Simon came here to discuss, throwing it away seems wrong.”
“I hear you.”
“Did you feel the same way?”
“In the beginning—but after losing Josh, my perspective changed. The luster on my career began to fade, and the dream of opening a coffee shop kept getting stronger. In the end, it wasn’t difficult to walk away. I’d grown tired of deal brokering and power plays. The day I resigned felt more like a beginning than an ending.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Are you tired of acting?”
“No—but I enjoy stage work more. And being in front of the camera is only a small piece of a career in Hollywood. I’m not liking the other parts . . . especially the lack of privacy. I hate having to hide behind a disguise in public.” She waved a hand over herself. “I hate having to keep looking over my shoulder to see if paparazzi are lurking in the shadows. I hate having my life dissected in the media.”
Her situation was far more complicated than his had been. There’d been no paparazzi camped on his doorstep.
He cranked up the analytical side of his brain. “Would it be easier to break your decisions into smaller chunks? The movie appears to be the highest priority for now.”
“It is.”
“Does the project interest you?”
“Yes. I’ve always wanted to work with the costar, and the director is stellar—but I’m not thrilled with parts of the script.”
He listened as she explained her reservations.
“I applaud you for sticking to your principles.”
She sighed. “You’re the only one who does. Under duress, Simon agreed to take my concerns forward—but he thinks I should fold if they balk. As he pointed out, dozens of actresses would be more than happy to prance around naked and spew vulgar language to star in a picture like this.”
“That’s one of the problems with movies these days—and why I avoid most of them.”
“Sad to say, you’re in the minority.”
“I know. As an actress, you are too. That’s one more trait we have in common.” He let her mull over his comment as he gave his watch a discreet scan.
Of course she noticed.
Tugging her hand out of his, she stood. “You have to get home and take care of that tenderloin.”
Yeah. He did.
But he didn’t want to.
Too bad he hadn’t kept it for another day.
He pushed himself to his feet. “I’d rather stay here with you—but if my smoke alarm goes off, I’ll be hosting the Hope Harbor fire department for happy hour.”
That earned him the ghost of a smile. “And charred tenderloin will be on the dinner menu.” She waved a hand toward the path. “Go ahead. I’m going to walk for a while.” She started to turn away.
“Katherine . . .” He touched her arm again, and she angled back toward him. “For what it’s worth, when I was deciding what to do about my own future, I didn’t rush the process.”
“I wish I had that luxury.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket.
“The movie decision may have a short deadline, but your career plans are a different story.”
“Not necessarily. Simon is convinced if I pass this offer up, very few others will come in. He claims no sane actress would hesitate to accept the role, and directors will walk a wide circle around me in the future.”
Could that be true?
Not in the world of mergers and acquisitions where he’d spent his corporate years, but show business was a different animal. It was impossible to know whether her agent was being candid or blowing smoke in an effort to pressure her into a decision.
And he wasn’t about to offer advice that could be all wrong.
“I don’t know enough about Hollywood to evaluate the truth of that. I wish I did.”
“I don’t expect anyone else to take on responsibility for my dilemma. I’ll work through it. Go ahead.” Again, she motioned toward the bluff.
Yet she didn’t walk away.
Nor did he want her to. Not after all she’d shared. Somehow he had to communicate how much her willingness to trust him with her secrets—and doubts—meant to him.
How much she was beginning to mean to him.
And he knew exactly how to do that.
It was a risk, yes—but with the air between them sparking like fireworks on the Fourth of July, it was worth taking.
Pulse accelerating, he erased the distance between them, until he was so close she had to tip her head back to see his face.
Wow.
At this proximity, a man could drown in the blue depths of those expressive eyes.
Slowly, he lifted his hand. Stroked his knuckles across her soft cheek.