“I don’t believe you.”
He growled low in his throat, red tinting his vision. How could he make her see that it was her he wanted? Her, and no one else? “I’m yours, Lacey. Hell, I’ve always been yours. I didn’t want to be with anyone until the second I saw you tonight.” He shoved his hands into his pockets because it was the only way he’d be able to stop himself from touching her. “Something led me here tonight, led me to you. I don’t know if it was fate, or luck. But now that I’m here, now that we’ve reconnected, it’s all I want. I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’ve been in this town the whole time. You didn’t need to search for me. All you needed to do was come home,” she snapped. “You didn’t want to find me, but now I’m supposed to believe you can’t let go of me? That you want me to stay with you?”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “When you say it like that, of course it doesn’t make any sense. Nothing that’s happened since I walked through that door makes any sense. Neither does love.”
“Love?” Her eyes went wide, and she yanked free. She shoved his shoulders hard, and he stumbled backward. “Now you’re taking this too far. You don’t love me. How dare you stoop so low? Are you trying to play on my emotions so I’ll go easy on you? If so, Hollywood really has changed you. I don’t even know you anymore.”
He ran his hands down his face and let out a harsh breath. “I don’t have another word for it. I saw you, and I knew nothing would be the same again. All these years, you’ve never been far from my mind. Never. And I never wanted to hurt you. It’s the last thing I would ever want to do. Eve told me how you were living in a shell ever since Joe. How you wouldn’t let anyone close to you—but you let me in. That has to be for a reason. It can’t mean nothing.”
“Yeah, well, a lot of good that did for me. I should’ve slammed the door shut in your face.” She swiped a tear away, and his heart twisted. He’d made her cry. “I’m going to my room. I want you to call the tow truck first thing in the morning, and then I want you the hell out of this house.”
She headed up the stairs, her back straight and her head high. If not for the way she gripped the banister, her knuckles white from the force, he wouldn’t have guessed she was upset at all. He strode to the bottom of the stairs and watched her walk away from him. Watched her leave him.
He had to try at least one more time. Had to make her see he wasn’t with Sylvia, and his heart belonged to her alone. “I do love you. I don’t have a doubt in my mind. I might be an actor that is good at faking things, and therefore an ass**le in your eyes, but I know what I feel. And I know you care about me, too. I know you’re scared to believe me, but I’m telling the truth. I’m not with her. I want to be with you.”
She stopped at the top of the stairs. “Give me one good reason to trust you.”
“Have I ever lied to you before?”
“Yes.” She turned around and met his eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You told me you would write to me, and you never did.”
And just like that, his last shred of hope unraveled and fell to the floor. He couldn’t say anything to that. Nothing that would change her mind. “I’m sorry,” he said, knowing he’d lost. Knowing he had already broken her trust. “I really am.”
She bit her lip. “It doesn’t change anything.”
“What can I do to prove myself? Please. Tell me what I can do.”
“Short of broadcasting it on national television? Not a damn thing.”
He shook his head. He couldn’t do that. “I can’t say it was a publicity stunt. They’d eat both of us alive, and both of our PR firms would flip.”
“We couldn’t have anything so horrible happen, now could we?” she asked softly, her hands rolled into fists. “Just go away, and go back to Hollywood where you belong, Mark. You sure as hell don’t belong here anymore.”
His shoulders drooped as he helplessly watched her stalk down the hallway and into her room. The echo of the door slamming behind her shook him out of his regret and pain. Her words couldn’t be truer. He lived in a world where no one ever told the truth, and every move was calculated and designed for the best possible publicity. The only time he’d ever broken from tradition and did something for the sheer pleasure of it was tonight, in Lacey’s arms. He hadn’t felt so alive in years. Eight long, long years. And now he was supposed to just let her walk away? Now he should go back to living the life of a zombie, as good as dead, with nothing inside of him but schedules, appearances, and movie dates?
He couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
Chapter Six
Lacey leaned against the door, closed her eyes and listened to the sound of her heart hammering in her ears. At least it drowned out the small voice whispering, “He’s telling the truth. Don’t screw this up now.” But when she’d seen him on TV, making out with a perfect blonde, something inside her broke. Some small part of her had been hoping when he returned to bed he’d tell her he loved her, or wanted to try to make their relationship into something real.
Something more than the fling it was.
Foolish? Yes. But she couldn’t deny she would’ve been happy to hear him say the words. But instead, she got a cold, hard dose of reality thrown in her face. It was more effective than a bucket of ice water could have been in reminding her how unrealistic her dreams were. Even if they did become a couple, how long until he traded her in for a better, prettier, more famous person? Why would he tie himself down to one boring schoolteacher from Colorado, no matter how close they had been in the past?
When he dared to mention love to her, she wanted to slam her hands over her ears and shut him out before he broke what little part of her heart she still owned. She’d been sure it couldn’t fracture more than it already had, but he’d proven her wrong. Apparently, when it came to Mark, she had plenty of heart to go around. Why had he said he loved her? Why did he bother to try and convince her of his love, when he so obviously wasn’t looking to stay in her life?
Even if he told her the truth about being single, he would still have to return to California. He would still return to the parties, booze, and women. How long would it be before he was naked in someone else’s bed? Hours? Weeks? Months? No, she wasn’t going to put herself through the heartache.