a couple hours with his leg up higher than his head, and iced.”
“Liam?” Miles looked around her to their boss.
“She’s in charge this afternoon,” Liam said, all but pulling the words from her mind. “And if we have to sacrifice a few angry reporters in order to put in a satisfying show on the carpet, then that’s what we have to do. If you’re worried, double them up. Bring in two at a time. Limit the number of questions they can ask. We can keep them moving. You gave them all the script, right?”
“Script?” Grace asked, zeroing in back on him.
“Miles puts together all the information that we want them to have, they hand out copies and that keeps me from having to repeat myself. Sometimes they want a direct quote in my own words and the copy we’ve handed out is wasted, but usually they are a good way of shortening interviews.”
Miles added, “I’ll limit them to three questions. Or maybe a time limit would be better. Three questions or...seven minutes.”
“How many crews are there?” The math started sounding more than ridiculous.
“You don’t want to know,” Liam said. “They were planning to have four hours to do this, but I threw a wrench into things by going to The Hollywood Hills Clinic for you first.”
And she needed to be there in order to intercede, but Liam didn’t want people seeing her shirt. “Do you have clothes here? Other than the ones for the trip and the premieres?”
He nodded. “Why?”
“The crews are here and Shopper Tom hasn’t had enough time to get something here for me to wear. Thought maybe I could snag one of your button-downs and wear it instead of the polo until he gets here.”
He nodded toward his female assistant. “Show Miss Watson what’s available in the wardrobe. The shirts I wore when I leaned out for that role eight months ago would probably work best.”
Grace followed the woman.
He’d leaned out?
In general, looking at Liam’s chest was a bad idea if Grace wanted to keep her wits about her, but she couldn’t help herself now. His shoulders were broad, had always been broad. How much weight had he lost for a role? Everything looked normal to her with his clothes on... What other tortures was he putting his body through for this job?
What would she have put her own through to turn pro? More than was sane. She’d done plenty during rehab when she’d been hanging onto a shred of hope. She had just never managed to get back there.
SOMEHOW GRACE HAD made herself the boss of Liam and his assistants, and Liam didn’t have any desire to dissuade her from that course of action.
She got the crews in and out, and guarded the door in between. And the shirt she’d selected from his clothing didn’t fit. Hell, it might as well be the only thing she was wearing for the way it distracted him. The collar unbuttoned deeply enough to tease at her cleavage, and the material tied in a knot at her waist, granting glimpses of solid abs and golden skin. No way would she be mistaken for a medical professional in that. She looked like his girlfriend or his lover, bossing everyone around and protectively fetching him water while still nagging him about this and that.
He liked that idea way too much.
But only because it was the perfect cover. No other options there.
If she didn’t watch it, the story the reporters took away would be that Liam had dumped Simone and caused her to turn addict...so that he could shack up with the golden vixen managing his suite and tending to his needs while his assistants stood by and looked at her balefully. Yep, it all but screamed The Other Woman.
She escorted the fourth crew back and came back to him, alone as she did every time. “How are you? Do you need a break before the next?”
“I do. I need to use the...facilities.” He gestured. “And I won’t ask you to stick around there, but someone to lean on would be appreciated.”
“Just a second. I have crutches with me.”
“You brought them anyway? How?”
She dug into the big duffel and started pulling out parts. Somehow, in that big bag of supplies, she’d managed to break down and stash a set of crutches. She flipped metal bits this way and that, pressed buttons, and adjusted the height. “Don’t worry, when you’re seated again, I’ll stash them under the sofa so no one can see them. I just want you using them anytime you’re not in front of the public. I’m serious, Liam. You are damaging that further every time you put your weight on it, and there is a window where you can get away with it, but past that it’s going to heal wrong and you’ll sprain it again. You’d be surprised by how little pressure a weakened ankle can withstand before it rolls out of the socket. Pain is a signal. It’s supposed to dissuade you from acting like a he-man.”
Arguing was futile.
“Fine. Give them to me. It might shock you to hear this, but I don’t want to do more damage than I have to. I’ve rated it as high as I can beneath the top priorities.”
She helped him get the crutches positioned right, and walked beside him toward the bathroom.
“What do you think you’re going to have to give up by bowing out of these premieres and interviews?”
“It wouldn’t take much to wreck the momentum my career has gained in the past two years. You know how the gossip is. You don’t have to make huge scandalous mistakes for the climate to turn. People are already mad at me about Simone, and that’s all speculation. I could keep making a series of small mistakes or demonstrations of bad judgment and the tide would still turn, just not as sharp a turn as if I went around punching people and biting the heads off live kittens.”
He felt it before he even looked down and saw the face she pulled while walking beside him. She turned her lips in and bit them, the way she’d liked to do to hide smiles, or keep from saying something she shouldn’t. Simone. She wanted to ask about Simone, how could she not?
No way. He wasn’t up for talking about his ex with the woman he’d spent years comparing all his former girlfriends to.
“I know that’s a silly example. What I want you to know is that I need to make the most of it while I’m in the position I’ve managed to reach. Do the most work I can, bank it for the inevitable downturn. And in the meanwhile get the best parts and stretch myself—increase the work that people think I’m capable of.” He swung into the bathroom and turned to try and drill the importance of his words into her. “The next project is a really good one. It’s also the kind of work that will keep me from being stuck in either the rom-com hero or action hero typecasts when I get too old for those kinds of parts.”
She opened the bathroom door and waited for him to enter. “I’ll wait out here.”
It closed with a click and Liam shook his head. No comment on what he’d said. She thought he was being unreasonable just out of stubbornness. Or, worse, she thought it was ego. That his pride would sacrifice his leg if it meant the chance to prowl the carpet and be told how awesome he was.
He caught his reflection in the mirror as he passed it, scowling so deeply that he had to pause. Even speculating that she held him in anything but high esteem made him feel fifty pounds heavier, and it showed on his face.
Afterward, while avoiding looking into the mirror, he washed his hands and grabbed the crutches again.
“Door.” He’d let her wait on him if she wanted to take it this far. “You think I’m being ridiculous.”
“I think that you think you’re invincible. I remember feeling that way myself, but when it goes? It’s a really rude awakening.”
“Liam?”