Chapter 48

They got to the bedroom door as Sara came out carrying a small bag. Jon took her hand as they headed for the outer door, lacing his fingers through hers. In her heels, Sara was taller than him, but for once it didn’t even bother Jon.

Out of the suite, and the elevator was waiting for them, taking them down to the main lobby. Sara tugged at her dress a few times, trying to inch it lower, until Jon pulled at her hand.

“Leave it alone. It’s perfect.” He kissed her cheek gently, mindful of her makeup, and Sara smiled.

“If you say so.”

The elevator doors chimed softly, opening onto the lobby, and they followed Richie outside, finding a black limo waiting at the kerb. Sara looked down into the car as the driver held the door.

“Dammit.” She whispered to Jon. “How am I meant to get in there with this dress?”

“Carefully?” Jon suggested, and Sara glared at him, hissing in his ear.

“Now you know why I should’ve had underwear!”

Jon grinned at that, but moved to stand close behind Sara, shielding her as she lowered herself into the car, trying to stay as ladylike as possible. Richie hadn’t a clue what the problem was, but he waited while Sara got in and settled herself, then let Jon in before him. When they were all finally in the car, the driver closed the door and got in, driving off without being told where to go.

It wasn’t a long ride, just a few blocks to a chic and trendy restaurant, easily identified by the crowds of photographers hanging around outside, along with a number of fans, all hoping to catch a glimpse of their favourite stars. Looking out at the crowd, and seeing a few photographers she knew, Sara started to panic, turning to look at Jon.

“Jon - I can’t do this! I can’t go out there - I know half of those photographers. What am I doing here? I should be taking pictures, not being in them. I…”

Jon laid a finger across her lips, shutting her up as he smiled at her.

“Baby, you’re going in, so just stop it right now. I’m not even discussing this - we’re getting out of this car, the three of us, and we’re going inside. End of story.”

She looked at him in surprise, then Richie spoke.

“He’s right, Sara - we all go, or nobody goes. Believe me - and I don’t mean to be rude here, girl - but those photographers won’t recognise you. Hell, I saw you yesterday when you were working, and I didn’t recognise you tonight! Now,” he opened the car door, “get your ass out here with us! They’ll really wonder what’s going on if I get out then get back in here! C’mon.”

Richie got out of the car, followed by Jon, who immediately turned and held out his hand to Sara. She closed her eyes for a second, then steeled herself, took Jon’s hand and got out of the car. Jon tucked her hand into his arm, and Richie came up her other side, doing the same with her left hand, and the three of them walked slowly toward the door. Sara’s nervousness, as it usually did, translated itself into a false confidence, and she held her head high as she fought her panic.

To anybody who didn’t know better, Sara looked like she owned the place, her fear - and the towering heels - putting a strut in her walk, but Jon could feel her fingers digging into his forearm. He turned his head to whisper in her ear as the photographers yelled for their attention.

“Just wait until we get back to the hotel………I wanna fuck you till we can’t walk……..”

The crude words had the effect he’d hoped, breaking through her panic and making Sara laugh and turn to face him with a grin. Teasingly, she tugged back gently on his arm as she replied, her eyes twinkling.

“Let’s go, then!”

She was more at ease now, and they made their way through the barrage of flashbulbs, finally entering the restaurant, the guys letting go of Sara as they went through the door. The place was pretty full, and Sara saw quite a few familiar faces - some of them people she’d photographed in the past, then she saw a tousled blond head approaching.

“Jon! Richie! Glad you guys could make it.” Matt hugged each of them, then stepped back and took Sara’s hand.

“And you are…….”

“Matt, this is Sara. Sara Holland. Sara - Matt.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.” Matt said with that strong Texan accent, raising her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles.

“Hi. Nice to meet you.” Sara replied, her experience of working with stars giving her enough confidence to speak easily, even though he was one of her favourite actors. He smiled at her, that boyish grin that had always made her stomach flip when she watched him in a movie, but now she felt oddly immune to it, like Jon was the only guy in the world right now.

“So, which of these extremely old guys do I have to thank for bringing you to my party?”

Sara laughed, and Jon slid his arm around her waist possessively.

“Get your own, Matt - Sara’s all mine.”

“Damn!” Matt exclaimed, his accent making it come out as ‘dayum’. “You don’t waste any time, do you, buddy? Well, I’d better go mingle, since it’s my party. See you later.”

He wandered off to greet more newly arrived guests, and Richie snagged a passing waiter to order some drinks.

“What do you want, guys? Sara?”

“Diet coke, thanks.”

“Hey - you’re not driving tonight, remember.”

“She doesn’t drink, Rich. I haven’t managed to totally corrupt her. Yet.” Jon grinned. “Just wine for me.”

Richie added his own drink to the list - another red wine - and the waiter disappeared to the bar. The three of them took a seat and chatted for a while, although there were frequent interruptions from other guests who wanted to greet Jon and Richie. After one couple had left, Richie leaned in to whisper to Sara.

“They’re all coming over to see who you are. Nobody knows who you are, and it’s driving some of them crazy!”

“Don’t be silly, Richie - they’re coming over to see you two!”

“Nope, they’re checking you out, babe!” Jon confirmed, making Sara blush.

“They’re probably just trying to figure out which one of you I’m with, since I’m sat in the middle here.”

“We’ll soon sort that.” Jon said, standing up and grabbing her hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Let’s dance, baby.” He gestured at the small dance floor where one or two couples were already dancing.

“Jon - I can’t dance!”

“Yeah, well, me neither. Anyway - you said you couldn’t get out of the car, and you managed that, so come on!”

He pulled her out of the seat and, with a despairing glance at Richie, Sara laid down her bag and followed Jon. A slow song was playing, and Jon folded her into his arms, waltz-style, one hand on her lower back, pulling her close. They moved slowly together, Sara initially tense because she hated to dance, but the scent of Jon’s cologne, and of Jon himself, soothed her nerves, and she swayed in unison with him, eyes flicking to his face. Jon was smiling at her, his eyes just a little lower than hers, and Sara felt her own lips curve involuntarily at his expression. The song ended, and they were still moving together, gazing into each other’s eyes, then realised the music had stopped and they were alone on the dance floor.

When they turned to go to the table, they saw Matt sitting beside Richie, both watching them as they walked over. Sara slid onto the seat beside Richie, and Jon sat by Matt, who was gazing admiringly at Sara.

“Jon,” Matt joked, “this girl is way too young for you. I think you should let me take her off your hands.”

“I’m not young!” Sara protested, thinking how glad she was that Jon didn’t have Matt’s accent. She was fast falling for Jon, but if he had that sultry accent, she knew she’d have been a goner from minute one. Just something about that Texan accent she couldn’t resist.

“Matt, you don’t want to get on the wrong side of Sara, trust me. She beat the shit outta me last week!”

Sara gasped, then remembered the incident up in Canada, in the barn.

“It was your own fault.” She reminded Jon with a smile.

“So how old are you anyway, Sara?” Richie asked. “Or is that one of those questions I shouldn’t ask? Can I just guess?”

“Take a guess.” Jon told him.

Richie looked at Matt, who tilted his head to look at Sara, who wasn’t entirely impressed that the conversation seemed to be revolving around her. She couldn’t think of a polite way to stop them, though, so she just sat back with a small smile, waiting for the verdict.

“I think…” Matt tried first, “about twenty seven.”

“Nah, more like twenty five.” Richie guessed.

Sara looked from Richie, to Matt, to Jon, smiling at Jon with raised eyebrows and a shake of her head.

“Well, that’s what I guessed, too, darlin’.” He reminded her.

“Not even close.” She told them. “I’m thirty two.”

They made the familiar protests of disbelief, which annoyed Sara a little, though she tried to hide it. She knew she looked younger than she was, and it had actually affected her professional life at times, when potential clients didn’t think she was going to have the experience they wanted. That’s why she preferred email and phone contacts, since she could land the contract before they met her and decided she was too young.

She was glad when the conversation moved on, Jon and Matt getting into a discussion about Jon’s latest movie, then Richie nudged her.

“Come dance with me, Sara. Really confuse the gossips!”

Giggling, Sara nodded and got out of her seat, moving out onto the floor with Richie finding that, even in her heels, she was just a little shorter than him. He held her close, but in a brotherly embrace, and they talked quietly as they danced. Richie found out more details of Sara’s life, and he found himself telling her about Denise, and probably talking more honestly about himself than he had in a long time. He couldn’t fathom why - Sara just seemed to draw the information from him, without even really asking, and he actually felt better when the dance finished, like the conversation had purged his soul or something.

“Thanks for the dance.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, Sara. Thanks for listening to me.”

He led her back to the table, where Jon was sitting alone, but before she could sit down, Sara felt a hand on her shoulder. She winced - the hand was right on top of the hidden bite mark, and she saw Jon try to hide a smile as he realised it, too. Turning, she saw Matt standing beside her.

“My turn for a dance, I think.”

Sara tried to protest, but Matt shook his head.

“Now, you cain’t say no, Sara - it’s my birthday. Just one dance?”

“Okay - one more, then I need to sit down. You try dancing in four inch heels!”

The three guys laughed as Matt led her away, taking her in his arms when they hit the dance floor.

“Did I say happy birthday?” Sara asked. “I’ve a lousy memory.”

“I can’t remember either, but you have now. Thanks.” He twirled her around under one arm briefly. “So, what do you do for a living, Sara? I haven’t seen you around before.”

Sara laughed. “No, I don’t get out much. I’m a photographer.”

“A phot…..you’re that Sara Holland? That’s you? Damn - you’re on the wrong side of the camera, Sara!”

“Yeah, right. I like my side of the camera, thanks. Besides, you haven’t seen me when I’m working!”