Red Carpet Romance Read online

  A ding notified her that a text had arrived. She checked it in the elevator. Max is back in the park again. She smiled. Now there’s a good, if misguided, father.

  When she reached Riverside Park, Max was on the bench, waiting for her. He waved, and though she tried to smile, Quinn’s unhappiness weighed heavily on her. I wasn’t much help, was I? Wasn’t too sympathetic, either. He’s been so nice.

  “Good news, good news,” Max chirped.

  “That’s nice,” Susanna murmured, preoccupied.

  “What’s with you?” Max knitted his brows. “Something on your mind?”

  “Yeah. You first,” she said, snapping out of her reverie.

  “You were right about Mike. I told him it was okay with me that he go to art school. I even offered to foot the bill. He was thrilled. I haven’t seen him that happy in a long time. He even hugged me.” The older man wore a shy smile.

  She grabbed his forearm. “That’s great, Max! Are you happy?”

  He nodded slowly. “Hell, he may never be able to earn a living, but at least he’s speaking to me again. We had a great dinner and I’m…well, relieved is the best word, I guess. Thank you.” He leaned over and planted a sweet kiss on her cheek. “Now what’s up with you?” He turned his probing, dark eyes on her.

  “Oh, it’s Quinn.”

  “Quinn Roberts, your boss?”

  She nodded.

  “What? He made a pass at you? Do I have to beat him up?” Max made a fist.

  She laughed. “Nothing like that. Thanks, Max. He’s got a dilemma. He’s found a book, a truly great book, he says. And he’s shopping it around Hollywood, trying to get a studio interested in it because he wants to play the lead.”

  “What’s the problem? He’s a winner. His movies bring in millions.”

  She turned to face Max, propping Junior into an upright position on her lap so the baby could look around. “No studio will give him the part. They say he’s Joe Martin, and no one will believe him as a blind man in a romantic lead.”

  “Who wrote the book?”

  “Jaden Benedict. It’s called BLIND LOVE.” She opened a small bottle of apple juice.

  “She’s a bestselling author.”

  “So? What makes them think he can’t do it?”

  “What if the studios are right?” Max raised his eyebrows.

  “Why won’t they give him a chance to find out?”

  “It’s too expensive to make a movie on a whim, a what if. A big gamble. They want a sure thing, like Joe Martin.” Max crossed his legs.

  “Don’t they owe him something?” She wiped Junior’s chin.

  “Nope. Business doesn’t work like that. They don’t give a damn about him. Just about what he can earn for them…provide bonuses.”

  “How unfair!” Her face clouded with anger.

  Max chucked her under the chin. “The world is not a fair place, sweetheart. Go. Work it out on the court.” Susanna picked up her basketball while Max turned the stroller so Junior could watch her. She bounced the ball, switching her focus to her game. Each lay-up shot was with purpose. Each hook shot was to defeat a producer.

  Even as she ran, jumped, and shot, her mind was muddled. She couldn’t reconcile the two faces of Quinn—the caring, sensitive, would-be lover and the cool father, remaining aloof from his son. Which one is real?

  Preoccupation destroyed her concentration. She tripped and fell, ripping a gash in her leg on a jagged edge of blacktop. Blood oozed from the cut as she limped off the court. Max stood up. “What happened? Are you hurt?” He drew a handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapped it around her injury.

  “I’m getting blood all over your—”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got dozens of these. Let’s get you home.”

  Max pushed Junior’s stroller as he and Susanna left the park. Since there were no empty cabs available, he accompanied her all the way back to The Wellington Arms. The pain increased the more she walked. Her leg muscle cramped and tried to stiffen, but she forced herself to keep going. Once at the apartment, Max turned her over to Stokes, who helped her and Junior into the elevator.

  “Sorry, miss. I’d go with you, but I’m not supposed to leave my post.”

  “No problem. I can get upstairs by myself. Max is just overprotective.”

  The elevator took her to the twenty-first floor in the blink of an eye. She limped down the hall and opened the door quietly, for Junior had fallen asleep.

  “It’s about time! I had no idea where you went. You’re…you’re hurt?” His gaze went immediately to the blood-soaked handkerchief tied around her knee. His tone changed from anger to worry instantly as he took command of the stroller. “Stay here. Sit.”

  He indicated a straight-backed chair then wheeled the buggy to the hall. To her amazement, he picked up the sleeping baby perfectly and took him into the bedroom. Huh! He does know how to handle an infant.

  When Quinn returned to the living room, his hands juggled a mountain of first aid supplies. He sat down facing Susanna. First, he picked her foot up and rested her calf on his lap. Then he wiped the dirt out of her cut with a wet, soapy gauze pad. She squirmed and made a fist as pain traveled up her body.

  “I’m sorry, trying not to hurt you. I forgot about that broken asphalt. I used to play down there. Regular game on Wednesdays.”

  Once he’d cleaned the wound, Quinn picked up the Neosporin and applied a liberal amount to the gash. Lastly, he bound the injury with gauze and taped it. “There. That should do it. How does it feel?”

  “Still sore, but much better, thanks.” She raised her gaze to meet his.

  After throwing the soiled gauze in the trash, he smiled at her and gathered up the supplies. She rested her hand on his arm. “Hey, I’m sorry if I was…harsh before. I think it stinks the studios won’t give you a chance.”

  “I haven’t given up yet. There are more people to talk to. We’re going to L.A. for a week on Friday. I’ve set up a couple of meetings out there.”

  “We are?” Her eyes widened.

  “You and Junior are coming with me.”

  “Why?”

  “I have a premiere to attend and a couple of interviews to do. I can’t leave you here. What if something happens? You might need me,” he said, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. “Fran? Yeah. Any news?” He continued talking as he walked toward the terrace.

  Chapter Four

  Because they were VIP’s traveling with a baby in first class, Susanna and Quinn got to board before everyone else. They settled into their seats and sat back.

  “I’ve never traveled on a plane with a baby before,” Susanna confided to Quinn.

  “Really? That’s not good.” He frowned and rang for the stewardess. When she responded, he explained this was their first time traveling in the air with an infant.

  She explained what to expect and how she could help. Then she cooed. “And I didn’t even know you were married, Mr. Roberts,” she said with a smile as she returned to the cabin.

  “Hunky dory. She thinks we’re married,” Susanna piped up.

  “Cool it. It doesn’t matter what she thinks. I’ll tell you when you need to worry.” He patted her hand, then Junior’s head, as the baby nestled against Susanna’s chest. Finally.

  “Okay, hubby-dear.” She cooed, eyeing him with mischief in her eyes.

  His eyebrows shot up, but then a sexy look crossed his face. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Baby is fine, why don’t Mommy and Daddy become members of the Mile High Club?” Susanna burst out laughing, disturbing Junior, who had been dozing.

  The plane closed up and taxied into position for take-off. Junior cried and whimpered, which Susanna attributed to the cabin pressure change. She provided a few of his favorite toys to suck on and that soothed him, apparently relieving the pain in his ears. He slept through most of the smooth ride, waking to be fed and gurgling at the stewardesses. “Kid’s got a good eye for a pretty woman already,” Quinn said, smiling.


  Susanna smacked him lightly on the shoulder. They were served filet mignon and champagne. “Let’s drink to success for your new movie,” she said. They toasted.

  “How about a toast to Mom letting Dad get a little closer to her,” Quinn snickered.

  “If you were any closer, Dad, you’d be sitting in my lap.”

  “Shall we try that?”

  She chuckled. “Don’t think so. Besides, that’s the baby’s spot.”

  “Shucks. Junior wants a brother or sister, and how’s he gonna get one if Mom won’t let Dad get near her?”

  “Adoption?” She smirked, causing Quinn to burst into laughter, making Junior fuss.

  The stewardesses began to give Susanna dirty looks. Quinn whispered in her ear, “They think I’m serious. They think you won’t sleep with me. Let’s show ‘em, okay? Play along.”

  She nodded, unaware of what his plan was. Quinn leaned over and placed his lips on hers, then deepened the kiss. Trapped by her willingness to go along, she sat back and let him proceed. It wasn’t long before warmth traveled through her chest, her breathing became erratic, and her nipples tightened. She rested her palm on his neck.

  Crap! He’s turning me on. All negative thoughts flew out of her head, allowing her to enjoy the taste of him, the feel of his tongue caressing hers, the slight scrape of his chin against hers, and his warm breath on her cheek. His hand cupped her face, his thumb drawing a line down her cheek. Everywhere he touched her, she tingled. Her body responded to his. Their tongues danced, and she moved her hand down to rest against his chest. She wanted more.

  Finally, he sat back, turning his head to look into her eyes. She gasped for breath, returning his stare.

  “Wow! Who says you can’t play a love scene,” she whispered.

  “Who says I was acting?” He countered, his eyes glistening with desire.

  Junior gurgled in his sleep, cracking them up. Susanna reached up to touch Quinn’s scruffy face tenderly. He captured her hand and kissed her palm. After another glass of champagne, they both fell asleep, heads resting against each other, hands touching until the captain woke them up, informing everyone they’d be landing soon.

  As the cabin pressure changed again, Junior began to cry. Quinn took turns with Susanna trying to soothe him. They moved the infant from her lap to his and back again, but the baby wouldn’t be consoled.

  Once on the ground, the couple was anxious to make their escape and avoid the annoyed glares of other passengers whose trip had been disrupted by Junior’s crying. They were met at the baggage claim by a chauffeur. “Mr. Roberts?”

  Quinn nodded. Susanna joined him, toting Junior. “Here, take them first. I’ll get the luggage.”

  The driver raised his eyebrows. “I don’t have a baby seat, sir.”

  Exasperated beyond his endurance by this revelation, he snapped, “Then get someone out here who does!”

  Life was a three-ring circus for Quinn and Susanna as they attempted to entertain Junior, then feed him and change him, while keeping an eye on the luggage. They tried not to fight with each other but both grew snippy waiting for another limousine.

  Quinn called his producer. “Josh, this is unacceptable! Never mind. Just get a car out here right now! Junior is having a meltdown. We need to get him home,” he practically screamed into the phone.

  Finding it impossible to hide, Quinn spent the next hour signing autographs and making idle chitchat with people he didn’t know. Susanna saw him grinding his teeth but smiling the whole time. She surmised how hard that must have been for such a private person as he, especially when his temper was frayed. When fans approached him, Susanna stood apart so people wouldn’t know they were together.

  Finally, a limousine with a baby seat pulled up. The driver and Quinn loaded everything in the vehicle. Susanna slipped the baby into the car seat and jumped in next to him quickly so people wouldn’t notice. Junior, exhausted from all his whining and crying, fell asleep instantly. Quinn poured drinks from the bar in the back. They lay back against the seat, crunched together since the baby seat took up so much space.

  “I’ve never been to Los Angeles before,” she said, taking a big gulp from her vodka and tonic.

  “Doubt we’ll have time for a sight-seeing trip this time. But we’ll be back, and maybe next time we can go for a drive.”

  Susanna rolled down the window and was surprised to feel how pleasant the air was. “I expected hot and humid air in early June, but it’s beautiful out.”

  “Wait till we get to the beach.” He sat back and sipped his vodka and tonic.

  “The beach?”

  “We can walk from the condo. It’s a little bit of a hike but a pleasant one. You can smell the salt air from the terrace.”

  “Would you have a place without a terrace?” She teased.

  “Not if I could help it. I’m an outdoor kinda guy,” he grinned at her, closing his long fingers over her hers.

  They rode the whole way sitting close, holding hands. A sense of calm washed over her as she relaxed against him. It’s almost like we’re married, with a child. Once they arrived, the men unloaded the suitcases while Susanna carried Junior up the stairs. Quinn opened the door. Right inside were a folded up, portable crib, a highchair, a stroller, and a bentwood rocker. Susanna turned a questioning look toward him as a big smile broke out on her face.

  “You said you needed a rocker.”

  “I do. This is great!” Quinn carted the crib and rocker up the stairs into the spare room while she unpacked Junior’s food and fed him some cereal and fruit.

  The condo had a beautiful Italian beige and light orange, ceramic tile floor in the living room, dining area, and kitchen. The walls were beige in the living room. Aqua canvas covered a sectional sofa and two chairs. Beige and white throw pillows softened the lines of the couch. Original oil paintings on the wall were of beach scenes and ships.

  The kitchen had beige and black flecked granite countertops, and the same beige wall color as the living room, but the cabinets and appliances were black. The terrace spanned the length of the living room and kitchen combined. Floor to ceiling windows in the living room and dining area were made private by gauzy off-white curtains. Lamps were chrome and a large, rectangular, chrome and glass coffee table sat in front of the sectional.

  “This place is beautiful. Did you decorate it?”

  “Nope. Maggie did.”

  “She’s got a great sense of color.”

  He nodded before toting their luggage up the short flight of stairs to the bedrooms. The baby was frisky, waving his arms and legs, so Susanna put him in the new stroller.

  “Take us on a tour,” she said, extending her hand to Quinn as he came down. He carried the buggy with Junior fastened safely inside down the three steps to ground level, then led them toward the Pacific Coast Highway. “There’s a crossover down this way.”

  She moved up next to him and reached for his hand.

  “Not in public,” he whispered.

  Though his voice was low, his words hit her like a slap in the face. Right. Don’t want anyone to think we’re a couple, or this is our child. Nope. No siree. I’m the hired help, that’s all. Stung by his words, she looked away from him while she blinked back tears.

  “Next time we come, let’s take a picnic to the beach with Junior. Bet he’ll love the sand.”

  She nodded, emotion choking her. Stupid fool. Did you think he wanted you? You’re a diversion, a convenient plaything. Remember who he is. He can have any woman he wants.

  He didn’t notice her coolness at first. She stood away from him as they walked along, facing the ocean. As they waited for the light to change, he commented, “Too tired to talk?” She shrugged. They walked on for a while. His stare heated her skin, but she steadfastly refused to look at him. Finally, he reached over and nabbed her arm, whipping her around to face him. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” she lied.

  “I’m not stupid. I’ve known enough women to
know when a woman is giving me the cold shoulder.”

  “Not in public,” she said, stiffly.

  “Oh.” he nodded. “I see.” She raised her eyes to his. “You’re upset because I don’t want to be seen by photographers holding hands with you. I don’t want to drag you into some illegitimate baby scandal.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  “One glimpse of me holding hands with you, pushing Junior, and the media will pounce, portraying you as my knocked up mistress. Or they’ll have you as my secret bride or any of a dozen other scenarios, none flattering. Especially to you.”

  She turned back toward the sea.

  “You don’t believe me? I can’t let it happen just to convince you. Trust me. It’s not about how much I want to hold your hand or kiss you. I’d love to. But I’m not just any guy. Kissing me is news. I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re the daughter of a celebrity. I thought you’d get it. ”

  She listened, trying to keep an open mind, but it was difficult. His words made sense on one level, but he had rejected her. Yes, he’s famous, and if I stand too close I’ll face scrutiny, too. Is that so bad? I’m not doing anything wrong. Celebrity with dad wasn’t a death sentence. But then there was never a sex scandal there, either.

  Before she could answer, a car pulled up across the street and stopped.

  “Look! Quinn Roberts! Hi, Quinn!” The man behind the wheel waved as someone in the backseat rolled down the window and began snapping pictures. “Is that your kid?”

  Before Quinn could holler out an answer, the woman in the car behind leaned on her horn. The other driver rolled up his window and drove away.

  Quinn turned the stroller around. “Let’s go back.”

  “I see what you mean.” Susanna stopped.

  “Not because of that jackass. Just a stupid tourist. Because I want to kiss you, and I can’t do it here.”

  “What if I don’t want to kiss you?”

  “Oh? And on the plane? A kiss doesn’t lie.” He cocked an eyebrow at her.