Bombshell (Hollywood A-List #1)(19)

“She said she wanted a magician,” he said with a touch of Australian accent. “And she’s sitting in the grass with the orphan girl instead of watching him.”

“Her name is Nicole.”

“She seems nice. Not much for magicians though.”

“Do you want me to take them over to him? I can do it pretty easily, but I promised her I’d get her toy out of the van.”

He looked at his drink pensively. “What’s your name again?”

“Cara DuMont.”

“Have we met?”

“I used to work for the Heywoods.”

“Ah. Let me guess.” He looked me up and down in my Mrs. Trudeau-approved chinos and polo. “Kendall found you threatening.”

“I work for families. The whole family. If one person in the family thinks I’m not going to work out, then I move on.”

He nodded as if truly and deeply understanding every nuance of my troubles. I knew why Blakely had gone down the dark path with this guy. His attention was spellbinding.

“Of course,” he said, then motioned back through the kitchen. “The van. It’s in the alley. Let me take you.”

As much as no married Hollywood daddy wanted to be seen alone with Blakely, I didn’t want to be seen alone with Josh Trudeau. I hadn’t seen Ray and Kendall, but Jedi was probably somewhere, and I didn’t want to prove Kendall right about my intentions.

“I can figure it out,” I said.

He held out his hand to me. “The gate has a code. Come on. I won’t bite.”

It wasn’t biting I was concerned about, but I had to go with him or risk getting labeled as difficult. It was his party. His house. He didn’t want to be seen with me any more than I wanted to be seen with him.

As if proving my point, he took me around back, away from the party.

“Where are you from, Cara?” he asked. Small talk as we walked the length of the high wood fence.

“Everywhere. I’m a military brat, but mostly French-speaking countries. My parents did some intelligence liaison work.”

“Like spies?”

“Not that glamorous.”

“Parlez-vous fran?ais?”

“Oui, je parle fran?ais. Le faites vous?”

“You just heard the extent of it.”

I laughed with him as he punched numbers into a keypad. The lock clicked and I opened the gate. The van was there, wide open with matte black flat-screen TVs covering the interior walls. I could see Nicole’s little pink pony on the seat. I grabbed it.

When I turned, Josh was clicking the gate closed. I moved the stuffed toy from one hand to the other, then back again. A nervous gesture, because I was suddenly uneasy.

“You’re really a beautiful girl.”

“Thank you.”

He stepped toward me, and I stepped away. My back hit the side of the van.

“You have a real presence,” he said softly. “More than looks, presence is what’s important.”

“Mr. Trudeau, I—”

“I can make things happen for you. A girl like you . . .” Another step, and I could see where his lips were ever so slightly chapped. “. . . you have something.”

“I don’t need anything.” I put my hands on his chest, pony between them. “I’m fine.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but a titter of giggles and shushes came from the other side of the gate. Josh didn’t move. Jesus Christ, what did he think he was going to do? Force himself on me? I was perfectly willing to bite a chunk out of anything that got close enough to my mouth, I didn’t care how gorgeous it was. I looked right into his eyes, leveled my intention on him.

“Back. Up.”

He smirked.

Behind him, the code beeped. The smirk faded, but he didn’t move until the gate scraped open with a cheer from a couple of female voices and a “hey-ho!” from a male voice I recognized, but couldn’t see because this * was in my way.

I gave Josh another shove. He took a step back, and there was Brad, an arm around each girl he’d been with at the bar.

“Uncle Josh?” said the one with the bun.

“Jennifer,” Josh said, rubbing his lips as if I’d gotten my lip gloss on him. What an unbelievable f*cker.

“Dude,” Brad said, glancing to me. He was clear-eyed and sober. He pointed to Josh. “What the f*ck are you doing?”

“Hey, bro.” Josh flashed his most winning smile and held his hand out to Brad. “You know how it is.” He jerked his head to me. I could only stand with Nicole’s pony in my hand, mouth open in shock. He was accusing me of something I’d taken great pains to avoid. Motherf*cker. And no way I’d be believed. Not with friendship and careers in the mix.

It looked like Brad was going to shake his friend’s hand, and the * relaxed for a split second. Which is all it took for Brad to punch him in the mouth.

The cracking sound was immediately followed by an oomph and a thup as Josh’s head hit the side of the van. Brad stood over him, getting his body between Josh and me.

“Oh. My. God,” one of the girls said.

“Do not try and bring that shit in my house,” Brad said, pointing at Josh as if he was ready to drive a hole into him.

“Are you serious?” Josh seemed totally incredulous. “This is my house.”