things, Michael.’
For a few seconds nobody said anything as they just stared at each other, the air heavy with something neither of them could describe, but it was India who broke the silence again, taking one last swig of beer as she stood up.
‘Come on. You’re taking me to dinner.’
‘I am?’
He hadn’t actually meant to say that out loud but she’d caught him by surprise. Again.
She turned around and looked at him, smiling that smile that he loved beyond anything else. Because he loved her beyond anything else. Always had, always would.
‘Yeah. You are. Unless you’ve got something else you’d rather be doing.’
He smiled too, quickly finishing his drink, slamming the empty glass back down on the bar. ‘No. Absolutely not.’
‘Come on then, Walsh. And you’re buying.’
***
Dominic settled down on the huge white sofa in his penthouse apartment at The Amber Palace – his new home for the duration of his time filming here in Las Vegas – and began flicking through the magazine he’d picked up at the news stand in the lobby.
He didn’t really need to do any more research on Michael and India Walsh but this magazine had caught his eye because the cover carried a picture of them when they’d been together. Married. One of Hollywood’s hot-shot couples.
There was still this air of mystery shrouding their high-profile divorce seven years ago that meant neither of them were ever far from the headlines, especially now as they prepared to make this movie together when both Michael’s relationship with Layla Boyd and India’s marriage to JJ Foster seemed to be coming to almost simultaneous ends. Coincidence? Who knew? They had a kid together; maybe they just wanted to work alongside each other to give him some time with mom and dad.
Dominic turned to the page that carried the article on India and her decision to return to Vegas to make this movie after her last successful Nevada-set nineties comedy, The Wedding Convention, in which she’d starred alongside Kenny Ross. There were more recent pictures of her inside the magazine, but in all of them she was alone. No sign of her now estranged husband, JJ Foster.
‘You are one hot lady,’ Dominic whistled, his eyes going straight to a black and white photograph of India leaning back against a palm tree in an almost transparent white floaty dress that the photographer’s wind machine had obviously deliberately whipped up around her toned thighs, her perfect breasts visible through the paper-thin material as she stared into the camera through sexy, smoky eyes. It was hard to believe she was forty-two-years-old and the mother of two kids. JJ Foster must be sick at the thought of losing her. A feeling the world knew Michael Walsh was more than familiar with. So, was directing her in this movie Michael’s way of winning her back? It certainly seemed as though India had left that part of her life well and truly behind her, but whether Michael had done the same was another matter.
But, for the next few months at least, Dominic was going to be in close enough proximity to keep an eye on things because, as far as he was concerned, Michael Walsh had already had his go. Now it was time to give somebody else a chance. And it would be no more than Michael deserved.
***
‘You and JJ couldn’t work things out then?’ Michael asked as he and India walked along the palm-tree-lined path that led through the gardens of The Amber Palace, back towards the separate but neighbouring private villas they were staying in for the duration of filming.
She looked down at the ground as she walked. The few glasses of wine she’d had over dinner had gone to her head a bit and she felt a little unsteady on her feet. ‘Don’t ask obvious questions, Michael.’
‘I’m sorry… I know it can’t be easy, going through this divorce…’
‘It’s a hell of a lot easier than the last one.’
He’d almost asked for that and he shut up, realising that to push anything would only go against him. Even though he really had no idea what he was heading towards, exactly.
She stopped walking and sighed heavily, pushing a hand though her hair. ‘Look, I’m sorry too, okay? I didn’t mean to bring all of that crap up again, it’s just that…’
‘Just, what?’ Michael asked, noticing the way her eyes couldn’t seem to meet his anymore.
She shook her head, almost as if she was getting rid of any ideas she had about doing something