Ann Major - Love Me True

Mac and Titania had each other. Sometimes their happiness made him even more aware of what was missing. Maybe that was why he’d started buying land in Texas.

“You could have thanked me up there—” Daniella had said to Joey in the limo.

God. Everything, everything was always about her.

“So—Thanks.” Joey bit out the word.

“You treat me like I’m nothing to you, Joey.”

“He sleeps with you, doesn’t he?” Mac inserted.

Joey flinched and hoped Mac wouldn’t catch the subtext in Danny’s sudden silence and sly look.

What the hell was wrong with him? He was supposed to be a Hollywood superstud. Danny was one of the most beautiful women in the world. And he had no interest in sex. Before her, he’d dated girls a night or two, always dropping them when they demanded to be more than a decoration on his arm.

He could have anybody. Women were always handing him room keys, phone numbers, business cards. So—how come he didn’t want them?

“You don’t care about me though,” Daniella persisted.

What did she expect? What was he to her but a celebrity stud she’d used to put herself on the map?

He hadn’t asked Daniella to jump into his pool naked and scream she couldn’t swim. She’d probably hired that paparazzi piece of trash to climb his tree and take that shot of her without a stitch on just as Joey had dragged her out of the water.

The next morning their “affair” and the incriminating photograph of him giving Daniella mouth to mouth resuscitation had made every tabloid cover in the civilized world.

Then she’d come on to him at a party with the line, “Everybody already thinks we’re doing it, so why don’t we?” Before he could cut her for being so pushy, she’d kissed him.

Second photo of their mouths and bodies glued together. More tabloids.

No use denying his involvement with her after that. The media had given the world a gripping image. Truth didn’t matter. Would his fans believe photos they could salivate over with their own eyes—or what he told them?

A week later Daniella had bribed his gullible maid out of his beach house key She’d climbed into his bed naked and kissed him. That night he’d almost lived up to his reputation as Hollywood’s number one sex symbol.

So, she’d used him. Big damn deal. His fame made him fair game.

“You’re a star. I’m a star. How come you say you’re nothing,” he murmured in her ear.

“I want more, Joey.”

For no reason at all he thought of the drowsy summer afternoon he’d taught a golden-haired Heather to skim rocks across the creek. His stones had skipped to the other side; hers had gone plunk. But, oh, how they’d laughed—together. And, oh, what they’d done later in bed.

She was getting married in a week.

Maybe he wanted more, too.

“I’ve heard that before,” he said to Daniella.

“I mean more...like a diamond ring.”

“Marriage?”

Her silent face was as easy to read as a red neon light blinking YES!

“No way, baby.”

Daniella’s eyes went white-bright as she glared. “Go to hell, Joey.”

“Been there. Done that. For six damn years.”

He didn’t know why the hell he’d said what he’d said on that stage. He’d just been standing up there with those hot kleig lights, sweating like a pig. His knees had buckled. He’d been so damned scared, he’d felt so damned alone. He’d blurted out the first stupid thing that hit him.

Heather—Again he saw Ben’s bright, broken red car, saw her bend over Ben. When he’d tried to comfort her, she’d pushed him away, crying it was his fault. Then she’d let that cold, blue-blooded bastard, Larry Roth, fold her into his arms and lead her away.

Damn her hide for carving his heart out, for driving him to these crazy, airless heights to prove he wasn’t just a worthless nobody.

After a pause he said to Daniella, “When I want to get married, I’ll ask.”

The fans’ screams outside the limo roared louder. A young brunette hurled herself at his door and beat the glass with her fists.

“Let me in. I love you, Joey.”

Join the world!

The fan mashed her breasts against the glass and squirmed.

Mac grinned. “Titania would skin me alive if she saw this—”

Mac was popular with the ladies. Not that he ever did more than look. Titania was notoriously jealous.

Joey became aware of the shrill cacophony of the crowd yelling for him to get out. Fans of all sizes and ages screamed.

“Stardom,” Mac purred. “Your big dream’s come true.”

Joey laughed shortly.

“Be careful what you wish for?” Mac murmured. “What my other clients wouldn’t give—”

This craziness was the price Joey paid, for doing the work he loved, or would have loved, if they’d give him roles with more depth. He was tired of his warrior roles even though all his movies had been smash hits. He was tired of every woman thinking he was a god in bed.

Louie, his bodyguard, opened the door and told them to run. A blonde hurled herself at Mac. Gently, Mac deflected her and flashed his wedding ring toward the cameras.

Joey dragged Daniella out of the car through the throng behind him, shielding her from the worst with his muscular body.

Flashbulbs popped, blinding him.

“Faster,” he hissed over his shoulder when she stopped and began to pull her dress down and stick her chest out, simpering and flirting with the cameras.

“Smile for the nice man, Joey,” Daniella ordered.

“Hug her!” a girl screamed.

“Kiss her!”

Encouraged, Daniella’s hand snaked around his neck, her red, gooey mouth covering his. “Kiss me, you undersexed bastard. Make it look good. After all, you’re an actor.”

He fought her. For a second more her lips and arms imprisoned him before he broke free.

Inside it was no better.

Mac’s party was frantic. When Joey stepped through the door, the music stopped. Everybody froze and stared. This awkward interval was followed by a spontaneous burst of applause started by a radiant Titania. In a room filled with gazelle-thin beauties, Titania’s buxom figure in her white-sequined gown made her seem larger than life.

Joey nodded to her and then waved the guests to go back to whatever they’d been doing. For a moment longer he lingered at the entrance, watching Mac’s endless number of guests, mostly starlets—coming and going. They crowded around Mac and Titania, standing three and four deep at the bar. Mac and Titania were soon having the time of their lives. Then the band started playing, and rock music hit Joey like a tidal wave. Above that roar, people started yelling.

“Speech! Speech!”

“Thank me, Joey,” a pretty girl teased.

Everybody laughed except Joey, whose grim smile got harder.

“Lonely, lonely superstud.”

God—Suddenly a fierce yearning for bleached limestone hills and the creek with its woodsy smells made him ache for the peace and sanity of his Texas ranch.

“I’ll go home with you, Joey,” another girl whispered.

Joey’s gut coiled tighter; his mouth twisted. Would he ever learn to handle this inconvenient side of fame—the constant stares, the never-ending invasion of his privacy? He walked straight into the room, engaging no one’s eyes, especially no female’s.

“Could I get you something, darling?” The girl who pounced had glossy black hair. Her laser-bright eyes made too many promises.

“I’m with someone.”

“Not any more, lover.” She pointed at the dance floor.

Joey spun. Daniella was dancing cheek to cheek, body to body with Zachary Ranch, his director.

Joey charged toward them. He hated like hell to be rude to Mac and Titania, but the strange, sick-at-heart mood that had gripped him on that stage had him wild with panic again. The only way he could stay here was to get wasted or stoned. He didn’t do drugs, so he had to get out of this town. Out of this state. Back to Texas where people cut him down to human size. Back to Texas before Heather got married.