Before Daylight Read online

  When the choreographer cued the dancers to begin the opening sequence again, someone slid into the seat behind him. Assuming that it was another dancer or someone associated with the company, Charlie didn’t look over his shoulder until the person tapped his shoulder.

  “Charlie Laughlin, right?”

  Then he turned and saw a guy who didn’t seem to be associated with the ballet. He was, however, holding a pad and pen. Having grown up around a lot of his father’s subordinates, there were several signs that this was a reporter.

  “And you are?”

  “Phil Oliveras, Ocean Drive.”

  Charlie raised his brow. “And my identity matters to you, how?”

  “I’m doing a story on your wife, so I’d think my identity matters to you plenty.”

  The bottom dropped out of Charlie’s stomach. He hadn’t told anyone anything about his sham marriage. And the way Laura had threatened to gut him if he told anyone told him that she had kept her mouth shut, too. His mind ran through the possibilities—her family or the waiter.

  He imagined that her grandparents would have kept the confidence. The waiter, however, had no reason not to talk. The murderous looks Charlie had dealt him during dinner might have provided motivation.

  Still, he schooled his features and didn’t respond to the reporter. If he had anything solid, there would have been a blind item out on their marriage at the very least. Since he was still at the goading and making annoying innuendo phase, he didn’t have anything to go on. Although a trip to the clerk’s office might remedy that if the annulment papers hadn’t gone through yet.

  Fuck.

  “Wife?”

  “You’re married to Laura Delgado.”

  Charlie shrugged. “That’s really breaking news when the groom doesn’t even know.”

  The reporter rolled his eyes behind his trendy horn-rimmed glasses. “Drop the shit, Laughlin. You know how this game is played. Hell, you’ve staged multiple versions of the game, televised all over the world. Just give me a quote.”

  Anger balled Charlie’s fists. Only the fact that he didn’t want to disrupt Laura’s rehearsal or get arrested for turning this guy’s facial features into something that resembled ground beef kept him from clocking him, repeatedly. And the reporter was just doing his job. The fact that he’d gone out with his wife, kissed her in public before the annulment went through put them at risk for publicity.

  He hated the fact that he’d ever signed on to produce that dating show after his first marriage had ended in a hail of gossip gunfire. But he’d been young and it had been fun. He’d reveled in the attention he got for it. Every news story about how the show was in poor taste—especially the ones that had embarrassed his father—had delighted him. But now? At this moment, he was wondering if he could take on a new identity because his current one had been an unredeemable asshole—totally erase the reason Laura didn’t see him as a real possibility for herself.

  “What would it take for you to just cover the ballet and not mention any relationship between me and Ms. Delgado?”

  “Are you trying to bribe me?”

  “No. I never mentioned money.” Charlie had chosen his gambit carefully. But he had something else that might be of interest to his new buddy, Phil. Access.

  “But you implied—”

  Charlie turned away from the reporter, and said, “Fuck what I implied. What do you want?”

  “Besides photos of the happy couple?” The sarcasm in this motherfucker’s voice coated the air and made Charlie sick to his stomach. “I want the whole story—how you two met, the engagement story, and the wedding night.”

  If he’d looked back at Phil in that moment, he was pretty sure his looks would kill the guy dead. As tempting as that was, it was more important that he extricate himself—and more importantly Laura—from this situation without bloodshed.

  “You’re not getting any of that because none of it exists.”

  “Why don’t you look me in the face and tell me that?”

  “Do you like your job?”

  Phil barked out a laugh that got the dancers’ and choreographer’s attention. Just fucking great.

  “This is a closed rehearsal.” The choreographer’s voice was faint but emphatic.

  Not wanting to be found out for creeping on Laura, Charlie got up wordlessly and walked out of the theater. Reluctantly, he motioned for the scumbag reporter to follow him. Once they were out in the lobby, Charlie faced the guy, folding his arms so he wouldn’t clock him.

  “Again, Phil, do you like your job?”

  “I went to Columbia J school, and I write puff pieces for a local magazine. Does that seem like a job that someone like me would like?”

  Charlie looked the guy up and down. From the lack of care towards his appearance, he subscribed to the school of thought that real journalists looked like schlubs at all times. “So, what do you want to let this go?”

  “Listen, buddy—”

  “I’m not your fucking buddy.” Charlie leaned down and got in Phil’s face. He softened his voice. “I’m not going to be your buddy or help you get out of a job you hate if you don’t play ball.”

  “I have integrity.” When Charlie didn’t respond, just tilted his head, he continued. “I do—and the way you’re trying not to hit me right now tells me I’m right.”

  “What would it matter if you were?” Sure, Laura was a local celebrity, and her extended family was a regular item on local gossip blogs, but that didn’t mean that her getting married warranted whatever kind of serious investigative journalism that this guy thought he was doing. “Neither of us are famous.” And Charlie had worked hard to stop being infamous for the past few years. “Why are you wasting your time?”

  “You think it’s not big news that the original producer of the The Single Guy, the guy who said all those things about his ex-wife and the women on your show, got married to a classy, fine-assed prima ballerina.” Charlie fingers twitched with the need to twist Phil’s outer ear right off his head. Laura was his fine-assed ballerina. At least for the time being. “That’s news in this little corner of the world.”

  “And not even a byline on a national newspaper would talk you out of it?”

  “If I break this story, I can get the same thing on any arts page I want.”

  “Not on any of the papers my father owns.”

  “Really? Last I heard, the two of you weren’t speaking. He’d really carry out a vendetta for you?”

  “It’s not a vendetta. I just don’t think that a gutter-dwelling loser belongs on any of my dad’s papers.” He was vastly exaggerating his influence with dear-old-dad, but one of his brothers would do him a solid for sure. “I’ve got to protect the family name.”

  Really, the only name he wanted to protect was Laura’s. She didn’t deserve to be linked with him in perpetuity. She deserved to get everything she wanted—even if what she wanted was in New York and thousands of miles away from him. But telling fuckhead Phil that wasn’t going to help his case.

  “I don’t think you have that much influence anymore.”

  Charlie got so far in Phil’s face that the other guy had to back up. “Watch me.” Phil turned white as a sheet. “Get out of here before she sees you. You breathe wrong in her direction a decade from now, and I will end you. Not just your career. You. You are full of shit, and your story means nothing. But I like Laura and her family. You cause her one iota of pain and you’ll be shitting from a tube.”

  As soon as he said the words, he knew it was too much. When the door to the theater slammed and Phil looked over his shoulder with pancake-sized eyes, Charlie knew someone had heard his declaration of war in favor of Laura. Anyone hearing that would know that Laura meant something to him, exactly the opposite of what he should have conveyed to the jackass in front of him.

  And it was even worse becaus
e it was her.

  Charlie didn’t look back to see if Laura was standing there. He didn’t have to. Her smell was unmistakable, and it wafted all the way over to where he was standing. Her standing in a room wasn’t something he could ignore. She was undeniable. Denying that they were married to the press was one thing. Denying that he was starting to have very real feelings for the gorgeous, intoxicating woman he was married to was very much another.

  Sleeping with—claiming—Laura had been a huge mistake. Now, he would never get her out of his system. He’d never be able to forget the things that she’d given only to him. He didn’t want to think about her career ending because of salacious gossip and fallout within the company. But he couldn’t be distant or impartial with her. He had this insane need to protect her, even if it killed him to deny their connection to anyone.

  He was afraid all of that hung in the vestibule, and that what he’d said to Phil would blow up for him—but mostly for Laura. All he wanted was to be alone with her so he could explain.

  “Are you going to get the fuck out? Or do I have to call security?”

  Chapter 9

  “Honey.” Laura approached Charlie and grabbed onto his arm, partially to keep him from grabbing the arts reporter from Ocean Drive by the throat and shaking him, and partially because she needed to as part of her new publicity plan with respect to her husband. Granted, it was a hastily assembled plan that she’d thought up while standing at the door to the theater just now, but it had to work. “There’s no need to talk to Phil that way.”

  The flex and pull in Charlie’s biceps muscles told her that he very much felt the need to come through on the threats he’d just lobbed. “There isn’t?” She swore that the sound of Charlie’s back teeth grinding filled the space. And damn her, it was so hot to hear him talk that way.

  “No, because we’re going to cooperate in the story.” Her husband’s body tensed up, and doubt crept in about whether or not she’d done the right thing. After all, she didn’t know him that well. She knew the parts that lingered online from a decade ago, but he’d stayed mostly out of the public eye since then.

  She was getting to know the man he was now, and he was much more private than he had been in his twenties. Seeing him with baby Layla, having a relaxed dinner with friends, going home with him afterwards—all of that was giving her a very different picture of Charlie Laughlin.

  Letting him beat the crap out of an annoying and slimy reporter wasn’t what he wanted. She didn’t think. The way he’d defended her had given her a thrill that she didn’t want to examine too closely. Seeing him here, knowing that he’d been watching her made her feel things that she didn’t know how to place.

  Charlie’s presence was confusing, but it felt right in this elemental way. It made her want to protect him the only way she knew how.

  Maybe people knowing about them wasn’t the worst thing in the world. She wasn’t ready to share all the gory, drunken details about how they’d gotten together, but a whirlwind romance might not completely tank her career. It might even get asses in seats to the opening show of the season, which was only a few weeks away.

  “Yes.” She clasped Charlie’s hand, and he looked down at her with surprise marking his features. She smiled up at him, as adoringly as she could muster. The sex must have addled her brain or something because it was easy to look up at him as though she was in love with him. Lust was a powerful drug.

  “My cousin, Carla Hernandez, introduced us. We were both part of the wedding party, and spent a lot of time together for that. Love was just in the air, so we decided to take the plunge.”

  Phil finally found the balls to open his mouth, probably easier since Charlie’s posture had eased slightly and Laura managed to pull him back and occupy one of his hands. “So, it’s true? You actually got married?”

  “Yes. We’re married.” Charlie’s smile bit through the rest of her fear and resistance. The satisfaction of making him happy frightened her.

  “In Bali.”

  “At your cousin’s wedding? Didn’t that steal focus from the bride?”

  Laura looked up at Charlie. He winked at her, and heat spilled through her system. The silent communication between them was new to her. She had glimpses of it with some of her frequent dance partners, but it was novel with a romantic partner. And Charlie was now more than her fake husband. He was her real husband, and her real lover.

  “We did it privately, and we hadn’t wanted to tell anyone else for a while.” He squeezed her hand, and she had to look down at the floor to keep herself from beaming at him. All this warmth and affection she was getting from him felt embarrassing. She usually ran away from men who treated her like they really wanted her because they always wanted too much.

  And Charlie’s intensity last night made her feel something similar, but different. It was new and exciting because she wanted him back and felt like she had something to offer him in return for the attention. He didn’t feel like an inconvenience.

  “And we’d like to keep most of it private.” His words surprised her. Here she was opening herself to criticism and speculation, and he didn’t want to subject her to that.

  “But, freedom of the press—”

  “You really think that two people who are sort of in the public eye is on par with political scandal or intrigue?” Charlie’s smooth, charming veneer was back.

  “I think it’s what I’m going to report on.” The reporter shrugged. “Whether you cooperate or not.”

  Laura did not want this story reported on in a way that was scandalous. Undoubtedly, it would be worse for everyone involved. If they cooperated, she could buy time to warm up her parents to the idea that they were married. Charlie could tell his parents—if he wanted, which wasn’t likely, but maybe. Either that, or hos mother would burn St. Patrick’s down with candles.

  If they really went public, and didn’t treat this like it was an inconvenient rumor, they would have to stay married for a while. They could go live separately, but show up at events once in a while. And, in a year or two, they could get a quiet divorce.

  “When do you want to set up a photo shoot?”

  * * * *

  Charlie was stunned at Laura’s reaction to the reporter. He’d been sure she was going to fly off the handle and deny everything. He didn’t have words for how amazing it felt to have her at his back.

  And he barely waited until they got back in her dressing room after Oliveras-the-scumbag left before pressing her against the wall and covering her mouth with his. He didn’t care that she was sweaty or that he wasn’t supposed to be there. He just wanted her. Now.

  The kiss was slow and grinding, laced with unmistakable intent. It was a promise of all the things he planning on doing to her now that they were publically married. He was going to get to touch her in public now. He wouldn’t have to feel like a creepy stalker if he showed up to see his wife. His wife.

  “You didn’t have to do that.” When he came up for air, he wanted to be sure that she was really okay with going public. That she didn’t feel like she’d been pushed into a corner. He needed to know that she wasn’t going to be tortured by shame by being associated with him forever. That she would be in his Wikipedia entry.

  “Yes, I did.” She licked her full, bottom lip. It was still swollen from his kiss. He wanted to catch it between his teeth, but not as much as he wanted to move his lips lower and suck on her clit until she screamed. “It’s better this way. For me.”

  “Really?” The pang of disappointment he felt that she hadn’t hauled off and decided that she wanted to be married to him hurt a little bit more than he could process right then. She wound her hand behind his neck, catching the hair at the back of his head through her fingers.

  “I hope it’s better for both of us.”

  “We won’t be able to get the annulment now.” He rested his head against the door, and her lip
s pressed against the center of his chest. “Are you really okay with that?”

  “Now that we’re on board with the story, we have more control.” The idea that they were a team in this loosened the band that had formed around his chest. They were going to figure this out. Together.

  “I’ll think of a way to spin this so that it doesn’t hurt your career. I promise.” He only hoped he could keep that promise. But not hurting her might as well have been part of his wedding vows. Vows he didn’t remember.

  “Once the reporter found out, that cat was out of the bag.” Her voice shook, so he pulled back and looked down at her. Her eyes were glistening with tears. He couldn’t have that, not at all. “Who do you think told him?”

  “Maybe the waiter? We weren’t exactly discreet at the restaurant.”

  She nodded and looked down and he grasped her chin in his palm.

  “What can I do?” He held her face between his two hands, not wanting her to hide from him. She didn’t show emotions to very many people, and up until now, he’d only caught glimpses of vulnerability from her. That she was showing him this must have meant the she was finally opening up to him. Or that her feelings were so big that they were bound to spill out anyway.

  “I’ve been thinking that I don’t want—”

  Please stay. That selfish wish he kept inside. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her. “What don’t you want, gorgeous?”

  “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Be married to me out in the open?”

  “No.” She tried to pull her face from his hands, but he didn’t let her. They stared at each other for a long beat. And she didn’t have to say what she was thinking. He knew from watching her that morning, the way she’d moved from his bed stiffly. The look on her face when she’d rehearsed.