He shoved through the door, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the shadow of someone standing there in the alley. “Lexi?”
She stepped forward, and he knew instantly it wasn’t her. Lexi wouldn’t wear metallic, spiked heels. Not in a million years. “No. Who’s Lexi?”
He sighed and ran his hands down his face. Stupid, foolish hope. Of course it wasn’t her—instead it was the lead prostitute. Again. What the hell was her real name, anyway? And how could he get rid of her once and for all without telling her to stuff a sock in it? “A friend of mine.”
“Oh. Good.” She smiled, placing her hands on his chest with far too much familiarity. “I was afraid I had competition.”
No, she didn’t have competition because she wasn’t even in the game. But he wouldn’t say his thoughts out loud. “Of course not. But I’m going home now. I’m beat.”
“You’re always beat. Or going home. Or want to be alone.” She pouted, giving him a flirtatious look through her eyelashes that probably worked on most men. That probably would have eventually worked on him if not for Lexi’s hold on him. “Don’t you ever want company? Or just some fun? Don’t you get tired of always being by yourself?”
He tensed. She echoed his thoughts perfectly. He was tired of being alone. Of never having anyone by his side. “Occasionally. But … “
“But I’m right here.” Stepping closer, she tugged his head down and kissed him without a moment’s hesitation. There was no sweetness or even a fragment of emotion in the movement. It was all practiced and perfect. As if she had done this way too many times, and had perfected her technique. Is this how he had been before Lexi? Moving through the motions because he could, but not caring about their outcomes?
She practically forced her tongue into his mouth, shoving him back against the wall with aggression. He knew most guys liked a girl who took charge and wasn’t afraid to be the alpha in bed—but to him it felt forced. Fake. He tore free and gasped for air, fighting the revulsion in his throat threatening to come back up. The clacking of heels filled the silence.
“Bloody hell. I’m sorry, but—” He broke off, his gaze focused over the woman’s shoulder. His eyes met Lexi’s. She clenched a Playbill in one hand, and a pen in the other. What was she … ?
The autographs for her sister.
That’s why she had come. Her face went pale, and she seemed like she was frozen in shock. She had obviously seen the whole kiss. Had seen this woman’s arms around him and her tongue jammed down his throat.
She seemed to snap out of whatever held her motionless, because she spun on her heel and practically ran away from him. He dropped his hands from the lead prostitute’s arms and stumbled after her. “Lexi, wait!”
“No,” she called over her shoulder. “Just go back to … whoever she is to you. I’m leaving.”
She sped up, her steps hurried and uneven. As if she was upset. Of course she was. She had come to see him and had found him kissing another woman. He ran down the alley, easily catching up to her. He gripped her elbow, stopping her from walking into the crowded street.
“Please, let me explain.”
She spun on him, meeting his eyes. And this time he read the emotion hidden within their depths. Accusation and anger and something else …
Regret, maybe?
“Explain what, exactly? That you’re really an actor? I kind of figured that out on my own. Thanks for the warning, by the way.” She held her arms akimbo. “Oh, wait! Did you want to tell me why you were kissing another woman? Because if so, don’t bother. I don’t care. It’s obvious last night was a one-time thing. I just came here to get your autograph for my sister—but I don’t want it anymore.”
She tugged free and headed down the road. Toward his place. He followed her, falling in to step beside her easily. “And let your sister down? Don’t be silly. Give it to me.”
He held his hand out, palm up, but she just stared him down, her whole body tense. “No. I don’t want it anymore. Jessie will have to live without it.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He withdrew his hand, feeling like a bloody fool. “I forgot that you don’t even like actors—or was that a lie you told me to get me to let my guard down?”
She stiffened. “You’re actually accusing me of lying? Really?”
He bit back an angry response. They were in front of his building, and he didn’t want to have this conversation in public. “Let’s go.” He snatched her hand and dragged her to the door. She dug her heels into the cement. He whirled on her, nostrils flaring. “Either you come with me now, or I will follow you home and we can have this conversation there. Either way, you’re not getting away from me until you hear what I have to say.”
“I don’t have to do a damn thing you say, thank you very much.”
“After running away from me last night, you bloody well do.” He snatched her hand up. “Now let’s go.”
She paled. “You’re not being fair.”
“Aren’t I?” He stared down at her, his jaw clenched. When she didn’t back down, he sighed. Running a hand through his stiff hair, he looked up at the night sky. “You did run away from me.”
“I didn’t run. I left.”
“For the love of … ” He clenched his jaw. “Can we please go up? I just want to talk in private. I don’t want to do this in the middle of the chaos that is New York f**king City.”
She nodded, biting down on the corner of her lower lip. “Fine. Let’s go.”
He opened the door and they walked to the elevator in silence. It wasn’t until he unlocked the door to his flat and they went inside that either one of them spoke. The implicit tension between them hung in the air, palpable and thick. He leaned against the door, eyeing her cautiously. She looked like she might be three seconds from drawing blood.
“I know we both have things to say. So let’s take turns.” He flinched when she stepped closer to him, her fists balled tight. “You can go first. Go ahead. Yell at me.”
She pressed her lips together. “Why didn’t you tell me who you really were?”
“You saw me and assumed I was something I wasn’t. And to be truthful? It was … nice. A lot of women have this fantasy of sleeping with an actor or singer. They do anything to get one into bed, and then leave when they’ve achieved that.” He forced a shrug, even though he was being uncomfortably honest. “I thought maybe if I didn’t tell you who I really was, I might stand a chance at having something more real. Something in my life that wasn’t just a meaningless shag. I thought I might have a chance at feeling normal for once. You made me feel normal.”