Take Two (The Jilted Bride #1)(47)

“Mr. Sterling,” Joan handed me a bottle of water. “After the Q&A session, you’ll move to the book signing downstairs for three hours.”

“Three hours, Joan? What happened to just one?”

“You canceled two weeks in a row to hang out with your girlfriend,” she smirked. “You have to make it up to your fans somehow.”

“I hate you, Joan.”

“I love you too,” she gave the thumbs up to a woman dressed in white.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Ladies and gentlemen!” the woman spoke loudly into the microphone. “We need everyone to adjust their voices back down to bookstore level so we can begin our special event for the day.”

Within minutes, the fans became quiet. Only the shuttering of cameras could be heard.

“Thank you very much,” she smiled. “My name is Natalie Williams and I am the general manager of Barnes and Noble. My staff and I are very happy to welcome Hollywood actor, Matt Sterling—”

The fans screamed.

She yelled over them. “To our store! We are going to do a short Q&A session first and then Mr. Sterling will be signing copies of his first book, Destined for the Screen! We have five mics throughout our space so if he calls on you, wait for one of my staff members to bring you a mic so we can all hear the question! Let’s get started!”

The fans screamed again and the manager handed me her microphone. I waited for her go ahead signal and picked out a woman in the front row.

“Before I ask my question,” she was shaking. “I want you to know that I am your number one fan. I’ve seen all your movies and I tape everything you do on TV. I just wanted to ask you…Can I have a hug?”

I laughed and stood up. “Of course.”

She jumped up and screamed. She ran past security, up onto the small stage, and leapt into my arms. I hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. I picked a fan in the rear next.

“Hi Matt!” she waved.

“Hello sweetheart,” I waved back.

“I hope I’m not getting too personal, but do you think that Selena Ross is the love of your life?”

Fuck no!

I went into safe mode. “I’m marrying her, so I hope so.”

The fans laughed. None of their remaining questions were that bad. Only two of them were about Selena. The others were about my thoughts on current movies, my habits, and my body.

I signed books for the next five hours. My conscience wouldn’t let me get up after three—at least a hundred fans told me they were upset about my past cancellations.

I slumped across the back seat. “I am so tired, Joan.”

“Would you like an energy bar?”

“Why would I need an energy bar?”

“You have a two hour dance lesson in thirty minutes. That’s the only reason I stopped the signing.”

“The store was closing.”

She shrugged and handed me a Nutri-Grain bar. “I had your change of clothes sent over.”

“I know how to dance already. Is this a school promo or something?”

Joan shook her head and sighed. “You and your fiancé are taking dance lessons together for your reception. We went over this last month, last week, and this morning. The OWN network will be there to tape it.”

I sat on the floor and tried not to roll my eyes when Selena entered the studio. Her baby bump was significantly bigger and all the OWN producers were taking turns touching it.

She stooped down next to me and kissed me on the lips. She was kissing me passionately, like we were actually in love. I bit her tongue.

She jumped back. “Good to see you too.”

“Okay love birds,” the studio manager snapped her fingers. “Let’s get started with something different! Today we will be fine tuning the fox trot!”

I pulled Selena up and positioned her arms in place. The manager gave a brief demonstration and turned on the music. Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York” began to play.

All of a sudden, I was happy. I was gentle with Selena, helping her with every misstep, praising her whenever she did a sequence correctly.

The dance instructor played the song again and again, interrupting every now and then to perfect our spacing.

“Okay now this time,” she clapped as the song came to an end, “I won’t interrupt. I’ll just let you two go at it and I’ll comment at the end. Okay?”

“We’re ready,” Selena looked into my eyes.

Frank Sinatra’s voice filled the room and she followed my lead. I pretended she was Melody as I added extra steps—lifting her up, dipping her, and twirling her around. As the song approached the bridge, I closed my eyes and pulled her close. The next thing I felt were her lips on mine.

The song came to an end and the producers clapped. I opened my eyes and drew back from the kiss.

“My fiancé and I need to talk privately everyone,” Selena said. “Could we get five minutes?”

The OWN staff left their cameras on the floor and followed the dance instructor out of the room. Selena pulled me into an adjacent studio.

“I need to talk to you about something important,” she looked down at the floor.

“Why?”

“Could you for once be civil with me? You were just kissing me for Christ’s sake.”