Hollywood Flirt - Alexa Aston Page 0,18
She gave Cassie her address.
“No way. You’re about four houses away from us. How early do you get up?”
“Early. Habit.”
“Then let me make a suggestion. How about we meet on the beach for a walk and then have breakfast?”
“You’re on.”
They arranged a time and Ramon led them both to the back. Cassie went with the shampoo assistant while Sydney sat in a chair as Ramon clucked over her.
“So much work. You almost ruined your beautiful hair, Sydney,” he chastised. “Only someone with my talent could repair such a mess.”
“I won’t ever do it again,” she meekly promised.
His lips pursed in displeasure. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Ramon rummaged through a drawer and brought out several tubes. He began mixing various bits from each, look every bit the artist he was. Sydney closed her eyes and relaxed, knowing she was in great hands. She started planning everything she wanted to ask Cassie Corrigan when they met tomorrow morning.
Sydney also hoped that she’d made a new friend.
◆◆◆
Dash was antsy. He’d already run five miles and swum fifty laps in the pool, his usual routine on the days he didn’t train with Leo. He’d eaten breakfast with Herc and Tim before they’d left for Disneyland. Herc had to go to the Magic Kingdom at least once a month. Dash wished he could accompany them but it was impossible. The attention he’d draw would put Herc in the spotlight and Dash would never do that to him.
It wasn’t that he was ashamed of his mentally challenged brother. Far from it. He loved Herc with a fierceness that defied logic. He’d been legally responsible for Herc since his dad’s liver conked out and Dash had assumed guardianship. It had been a slow death, years in the making—a combination of drinking his life away and pining for a woman who never looked back when she left.
Dash hadn’t needed his fickle mom then. He didn’t need her or any woman now. He and Herc were fine, with generous help from Tim sprinkled into the mix.
That didn’t mean Dash lived like a monk. Far from it. He had a healthy appetite for sex. He’d kept Ashley Franklin around longer than most because she liked it anywhere, anytime, any way. Though he knew the model was furious with him for dumping her, she was smart. She wouldn’t pick any fights on social media or badmouth him to the press. Ashley knew he’d given her career a boost during their time dating, if you could call it that. She’d booked several new runway shows and even landed a cosmetic company exclusive contract. No, Ashley would smile, say they’d parted the best of friends, share that their careers kept them apart too much, yadda-yadda-yadda.
Thinking of Ashley brought him back to thoughts of Sydney and last night. He’d been blown away by her beauty and poise. He could tell she was smart. Observant.
“Admit it, DeLauria. You want to see her,” he muttered to himself.
Okay, so he did—but Sydney Revere wasn’t a notch on a belt kind of woman. His usual flirting and one-night stand routine wouldn’t cut the mustard.
His curiosity about her had grown after he arrived home and couldn’t find anything recent on her. He scoured the Internet but nothing showed up since she’d married Craig and lost her husband a few months later. Before that? Tons. Pictures of a young Sydney, looking beautiful in a coltish way—long legs, auburn hair down to her waist. He’d always liked a redhead. Her friends were the kids of Hollywood stars or stars in their own rights. With her looks and family background, Dash wondered why the acting bug never bit her.
He especially liked the pictures he found of Sydney with her mom. It was obvious they shared a special bond. As a child, Sydney had resembled Monica Revere, an actress who’d died in her prime. Dash was sorry Monica hadn’t seen the stunning woman Sydney turned out to be, even if she did have an awfully dull sheen to her hair. He figured there was a story behind why she hid her natural color.
Dash wanted to know why.
He picked up his tablet and drilled down again, seeing if he could discover where Sydney had been for the last decade. Instead, he found shots of her at her mother’s funeral, looking stoic and determined as she gripped her father’s hand. The brother he’d seen in the pictures last night stood on her other side, a far off look in his eyes. Birch. Pretty unusual name.
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