Shocking Sapphires - Ann Omasta Page 0,20
I said, “I had no idea you were upset at all… Perhaps you deserved to win an Oscar for your carefree reaction to the loss.”
“Definitely,” he agreed. “I was steaming just beneath the surface. All of that hooey about it being an honor just to be nominated is the best acting of all.”
“Hooey?!?” I hooted with laughter over his ridiculous word choice. “I thought you were this slick, sophisticated, and debonair actor, but you ruin that façade when you pop out with silly words like that.”
“What should I have called it? Horse pucky? Gobbledygook? Hogwash? Twaddle?”
“No!” I squealed and lifted my hand to my face to contain the impending snort. I never would have dreamed that the perfect man I adored watching on the big screen could be so much fun in real life.
Glancing at the playpen, I was relieved to see that our hilarity hadn’t disturbed Scout’s nap.
I quickly turned my full attention back to Grant. He was laughing with me, but suddenly turned serious. His eyes darted to my lips before he said in a quiet voice, “Come here.”
It was like my body was magnetized to his. I couldn’t have resisted his pull, even if I had wanted to. I stood and leaned in close to him.
He raked a hand through the hair at the nape of my neck. Our lips were a mere fraction of an inch apart when he said in a low growl, “I’m going to kiss you now. I’m going to kiss you until there’s nothing else for you but me, until nothing else matters, until you’re living and breathing simply for the feeling of me brushing my lips against yours.”
My eyelids fell closed at his marvelous promise, but then they snapped open. “Hey! Isn’t that a line from Loving You?”
He at least had the decency to look sheepish as I smacked lightly at his chest and went back to my seat.
“You recognized that, huh?”
“Of course, I did.” I snapped before asking, “How am I supposed to know whether I’m with the real Grant Chandler, or the actor, who can believably play any part he wants?”
“I’ve been wondering that same thing for years,” he revealed. Giving me a sad look, he added, “If you figure out the answer, let me know.”
It made me sad to think that the man might be so good at playing his various roles that he lost himself in the process.
He apparently noticed my pensive expression because he joked, “Will the real Grant Chandler please step––err, roll––forward?”
I didn’t laugh. Instead, I leaned toward him and looked steadily into his eyes as I said, “I’ve gotten to know the real Grant Chandler over the past several months. He’s incredibly hardworking. He’s a wonderful, loving father. He’s passionate and strong. And he has an incomparable talent for making everyone around him feel valued and respected.”
I’d purposely left out saying anything about his acting skills or fame.
He gave me an intent stare as if he was weighing my words, trying to decide if he could believe them. I saw the moment the flicker of mischief came into his eyes just before he said, “You forgot to say how devilishly handsome I am.”
“Nope. I forgot to mention how you can’t handle being serious for even a minute.”
“I’m serious about this,” he said as he lifted his palm to my jawline. His voice was barely above a whisper as he said, “Thank you. Thank you for being here for me and Scout and for believing in me. Thank you for being you, Molly.”
I leaned in, craving more of his sweet words and touch. Just as our lips inched closer to find each other, Eva Wingate swept into the room with a loud flourish.
16
Grant
In her typical fashion, Eva seemed to suck all of the available oxygen from the room. She was perfection personified, and she knew it. She flounced in, plopped her oversized Hermès handbag into the only available chair and practically shoved Molly aside.
Leaning over me, the gorgeous actress pressed her perfectly-glossed lips to mine with a loud smack before saying, “Oh, Grant, darling… How are you surviving in this awful place? We must get you out of here and into a five-star wellness facility where you can recuperate in California––where the sun actually shines.”
She gave a pointed glare out the window at the muted gray sky. I found it rather funny that she seemed to think the only place where I could possibly get better was California, but I contained my laughter––mostly because I