Chased by Love (Love in Bloom: The Ryders): Trish Ryder by Melissa Foster Page A

So I’m going to take my ridiculous crush and put it away.” She made a motion with her hands like she was tossing it into the wind.
    “Just like that, huh?”
    She nodded. “I have to. I’m serious about my career, and I’m serious about protecting my heart. Before I read the script for No Strings I was ready to take a hiatus and try to have a normal life. Maybe meet a guy who had nothing to do with the industry and see what happens. But this role spoke to me. It’s my chance to really prove myself, and I know you get that.”
    “And getting involved with a guy like me could screw that up.” His tone was cold, and his eyes narrowed with the accusation.
    Trish held her breath for a beat, knowing what she had to say might send them reeling back into the uncomfortable place they’d been in earlier, but she’d come this far. She might as well lay it all out on the line.
    “When I heard you took the role, I jumped at the chance to work with you. And I know you can pull this role off, but you didn’t even show up for the preproduction meeting. And you showed up late for filming without a care for anyone else’s time. I think we’re just two very different people.”
    **
    BOONE PUSHED TO his feet again, grinding his teeth against the urge to tell her the truth, but anger and something more burned like acid in his gut. He took the chicken off the grill, set it on the plate he’d brought out earlier, and placed it beside Trish.
    “Nothing but protein.” He pulled a fork and knife from his back pocket and set it on the plate.
    “You made this for me?”
    He shrugged. So he worried about her, that didn’t mean anything. Did it? She was his co-star. If she got sick, the movie would be put on hold and that would only piss off the director even more. At least that’s what he told himself.
    “Thank you. That was really nice.” She picked up the fork and knife. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
    He shook his head, and she set down the silverware.
    “Christ, Trish. Really?”
    She crossed her arms. “I hate eating alone.”
    “Fine, I’ll eat. You are one stubborn woman.”
    She grinned with a triumphant look in her eyes. He pointed at the plate and she cut the chicken in half and pushed half to his side of the plate.
    He’d kept his personal life locked far away from prying eyes for his entire career, but it pissed him off to hear her lumping him in with people who had no regard for anyone else. But the urge to confess the truth was driven by something stronger than being pissed off. He was a lousy liar, even to himself. The smoke and mirrors he put up to the public was one thing. He wasn’t actually speaking to the press. His people did that for him. But being here with Trish, gazing into her eyes, knowing she’d just revealed something that couldn’t have been easy for her? This was different.
    “Maybe the reason you aren’t finding the right kind of guys has more to do with your assumptions than anything else.”
    “I’m sorry I made you mad, but that’s not an assumption. I was at the meeting. I know you didn’t show up.” She stuffed a piece of chicken in her mouth, her eyes locked on him as she chewed.
    Why did she have to look so cute when she was angry?
    “You know I missed a meeting, but do you know why ? Have you bothered to ask me?” He stopped pacing and crossed his arms, holding her steady stare.
    “I don’t have to. It was in all the papers. You were at a party in Beverly Hills with a harem of models.”
    He pointed to the plate again, and she rolled her eyes, then ate a sliver of chicken.
     “And rag magazines are reliable sources.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “What are you getting at?”
    He paced again, feeling like his skin was too tight. “It shouldn’t matter to me what you think. Hell, I spend my life not giving a shit about what anyone but those closest to me think, and half the time, if they don’t like something, they can kiss my ass. But for whatever reason, you’ve gotten