“Oh, yeah? Do tell.”
His eyes glinted in the evening light. “It turns out that the person who asked is the same person I’d been dying to see this weekend. The same one I’d like to be dating, if she’s open to it.”
“Dating? For real?” she asked.
“Sure. You’re single. I’m single. We already know we enjoy each other. Why not?” He flipped his blinker on and took a right turn into a gated community.
She thinned her lips and tilted her head as she considered him. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. Shoot.”
“Did you date anyone while you were in Europe?”
“Date?” he asked, his eyebrows raised.
Joy huffed. “Okay, fine. Did you sleep with any of your models?”
He stiffened as he cocked one eyebrow at her. “Is that what you think of me?”
She wasn’t sure if that was righteous indignation or a redirect. “It’s what happened with us. We’d known each other less than a day before we fell into your bed. I guess I just wondered if that’s a normal thing for you.”
When he didn’t answer, she started to fidget and added, “I just want to know what I’m getting into. That’s all. I… shit.” She turned and glanced out the window at the large beach houses on Seaside Lane.
“You what?” he prompted.
“This isn’t what I want to be talking about right before a cocktail party hosted by Prissy, but I guess since we’ve already landed on this, I’ll just spit it out. You’re the only person I’ve been with since my husband and I separated. I don’t usually do casual, although, obviously I was all for it in the moment. I’m not trying to be judgy; I just know myself. And if you’re seeing other people then—”
“I’m not seeing other people,” Troy said. “And I didn’t fall into bed with anyone while I was gone. I had no desire to. Every night when I went to bed, all I could see was this gorgeous blonde who’s so sexy, and all I could think about was getting back here and finding a way to get her back into my bed.”
Joy’s face flushed, and she couldn’t help the grin that claimed her lips. “Um, that was lovely.”
He winked at her. “Now, as to those dating rumors in the press, why don’t we confirm them tonight? And if we survive this cocktail party, I’d love to take you somewhere a little less hostile. Say my place tomorrow night? I’ll cook.”
“Your place, huh?” she asked, grinning.
“Yes. I haven’t eaten a home cooked meal in forever. If I have to go to one more fancy restaurant, I might start to bleed butter. My place. I’m an excellent cook.”
“Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse,” she said just as they pulled up to a circular drive in front of the largest house on the street.
“It’s official then?” he asked.
“Official.”
“Good. Are you ready for the freak show?” he asked, nodding to the crush of paparazzi outside of the SUV.
Prissy must’ve called every gossip rag on the planet, because Joy had never seen so many photographers in one place before. She took a deep breath and said, “I guess I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be.”
“Famous last words,” he said with a chuckle. Then he opened his door and was met with an onslaught of flashes from the cameras. Before she even knew what was happening, Troy was there, opening her door and tugging her down a red carpet where all of Prissy’s guests were posing for the cameras.
Chapter Twelve
The flash of the cameras blinded Joy as Troy led her down the literal red carpet that bordered a hedge of Prissy’s rental. She remembered Prissy warning her about the paparazzi but hadn’t expected that she’d actually set the house up as if it was some sort of premiere. Talk about pretentious. How desperate must she be to invite that sort of over-the-top attention?
“You’re going to want to start looking like you’re happy to be here,” Troy whispered in her ear.
She blinked up at him. “I don’t look happy?”
He chuckled. “You look like the only reason you want to go inside is to stab someone. Likely Prissy.”
Joy couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re not wrong about that one.”
“Joy! Joy! Over here!” one of the photographers called.
“Can you comment on your relationship?” another one asked.
“How’s filming going? We heard rumors there was trouble on the set.”
On and on, the strangers demanded answers to invasive questions. Meanwhile, Troy kept his hand on the small of her back, reminding her to smile for them and to not react to anything they said.
“Is it true your son is gay?”
She immediately stiffened and scanned the photographers, looking for whoever was asking about Kyle.
“Ignore them,” Troy insisted as he tugged her into him and then smiled cheekily at the cameras before bending her backward and kissing her full on the lips.
Joy’s immediate instinct was to push him off, but before she did anything that would cause even more of a stir, his words sank in. Do not react to anything they say.
Shit! They’d found a weakness, and she was one hundred percent sure that Troy’s over-the-top antics were to distract the press so no one would notice how she’d reacted to the question about her son.
“Thank you,” she whispered when he finally righted her again.
“My pleasure.” He winked at her and then waved to the camera as he guided her into the large modern home that overlooked the sea.
Joy was grateful for Troy’s quick thinking, but she couldn’t stop wondering how the press knew about Kyle. Or why they’d been looking into her kids in the first place. The bone-deep feeling of violation made her nauseated. She couldn’t imagine one of her kids being highlighted in a gossip rag just because she was working on a movie. They didn’t deserve that.
“Hey,” she asked Troy once they were inside, “is there anything I can do to stop them from writing about my kid?”
He frowned, glanced around the room, and then led her over to a quiet corner. “I doubt it. If they print outright lies, you can sue and try to force a retraction, but the problem there is that the more you say or fight, the bigger the story is. If you want to keep them out of the limelight, the best thing to do is just never talk about them and dodge questions when the press asks.”
“That’s what I have been doing, but one of them was asking questions about Kyle. He’s not a part of this.” She waved a hand wildly, indicating the house, the photographers, the industry she’d chosen. “I just wanted to act, not have my family dragged through the tabloids.”
He gave her a sympathetic smile. “It’s all part of fame, though. And once the genie is out of the bottle, there’s no stuffing him back in. There’s no telling how the press will behave or how interested fans are going to be. The only thing we do know is that if there’s money to be made by selling a story, there isn’t much you can do.”
She groaned. “I don’t want this for them. Especially Kyle. He doesn’t deserve to have his love life speculated about in the papers.”