Hollywood Heir (Westerly Billionaire #4)(7)

He stopped and bit out his answer without turning toward her. “I don’t need to explain how I feel about anything.”

Sage raised her hands in concession. “You’re right.”

“It is none of your business where I go or what I do.”

“I completely agree.”

His head snapped in her direction. “Are you capable of silence?”

Sage put a hand on one hip and cocked an eyebrow at him. “Now you’re getting rude. I’m not the one who suggested this walk, so you can stop scowling at me. I didn’t do whatever it is that has you so angry, and I refuse to let you ruin my good mood.” He stood there, holding her gaze for long enough that her confidence wavered. Was there a chance he couldn’t afford the ticket and was too embarrassed to admit it? She hated the idea that she might have put him in that position. “The tickets would be my treat.”

“Why would you offer me anything? I’m so rude.”

Since you asked. “You know all those people you think you’ve disappointed? I’m not one of them. Not yet. Consider me a clean-slate friend.”

He shook his head, turned on his heel, and strode away. She watched him go until he disappeared into a crowd of people. Only then did she release the breath she’d been holding. She was tempted to call Bella, but she wasn’t ready to hear what she knew her friend would say.

He’s angry.

His problems aren’t your business.

You can only help people who want help.

She scanned the area for the couple with the child again. They were gone. There were endless possibilities as to why the woman might have been upset. Giving their child a balloon hadn’t actually made anything better for them.

But I couldn’t pretend I didn’t see their pain.

Does that make this about me or them?

Does Wayne Easton actually need my help, or is my present lack of male companionship messing with my radar?

He really does have an amazing ass.



Eric walked without a destination in mind. He needed to put distance between himself and the woman who was reopening old wounds. He’d gone to see her out of curiosity and after a sleepless night that had provided him with far too much time to fantasize about her.

He didn’t want a relationship, just sex. The last thing he needed now, while he was figuring himself out, was for some woman to mess with his head. Been there. Done that.

He’d expected Sage to be outrageously eccentric, fundamentally unlikable. She was a self-professed plant psychologist, for God’s sake. The question he’d pondered as he’d headed off to meet her that morning had been if he’d be able to tolerate listening to that crap long enough to screw her.

She wasn’t supposed to have a smile that made his stomach do flips or eyes he couldn’t look away from. He’d been there for her sweet little body, not the way she pursed her lips when he said something obnoxious. She wasn’t the first woman to tolerate his bad behavior, but those women were normally using him to advance their careers. Many prettied up the exchange of sex for photo ops and introductions by pretending it was part of a relationship. Others didn’t even bother. They chased him, hunted him, offered him everything and anything he wanted, all in exchange for something else.

He was no saint. In his early twenties, fresh from a broken engagement that had jaded his view of women, he’d accepted a fair share of what he was offered. As the years went on, though, he turned down more and more. The last date he’d gone on had been more than a year ago.

Like a bout of food poisoning after a certain dish, his last date had left a bad taste in his mouth. He’d come home after leaving her at a club to find she’d beaten him there, sneaked past his people, and ambushed him, naked, when he’d gone to bed. She wanted a role in his next movie.

The whole exchange sickened Eric. Everyone wanted something. Some were simply better at hiding it than others. He walked past the small theaters, trying to remember when he’d still enjoyed acting. A small stage, energy from an audience he could see, story lines that mattered.

Was all that lost, along with his faith in humanity?

He thought about the little girl from the fountain. His daughter, had she been allowed to live, would have been about her age. Passing years had numbed the pain, but sometimes when Eric saw a young girl, he still wondered about her. No matter how it had ended with Jasmine, he would have loved his child. He knew what it was like not to be wanted and would have made sure his little girl never felt that way.

He hadn’t been given that chance.

A phone call from Jasmine’s doctor to check on her after a procedure had unraveled an otherwise well-executed deception. Jasmine had never loved him. She and one of his college classmates, Sven, had duped him into funding their superhero movie, Water Bear Man. They’d needed his support, and it hadn’t been as if he didn’t have the money. A favor for a friend and the woman he loved . . .

The contract had been designed to screw him and the scriptwriter out of millions. Sven and Jasmine would then split and enjoy the cash together. They might have gotten away with it, had Jasmine not gotten pregnant, then angry with the situation—angry enough to spill her role in the deception. In a fit of anger, she’d incriminated Sven, the man she claimed as her true love. She’d said it had been Sven’s idea for her to distract Eric enough to sign without reading the full contract. Their last conversation had been ugly. She’d mocked everything Eric had disclosed to her about his dysfunctional family just to hurt him; then she’d torn into their engagement. She claimed to have been disgusted by Eric’s touch and relieved when she’d learned about her pregnancy early enough to terminate it. She’d said the baby had been a little girl. Had it? Or had she thrown in the detail to hurt him more deeply? He’d never know.