Where You Are by Tammara Webber Page B

sigh, her fingers scraping over the underside of my jaw. “Make me feel like… like I can trust you with everything. I haven’t felt like that in so long, with anyone. I’m always afraid of being left. I always hold something back.”
    I shrug. “You’re cautious. Maybe… losing your mother did that to you.”
    Her fingers still on my chin, she’s quiet for a moment before saying, “Maybe so.”
    “Thank you for trusting me, Emma. I’ll be worthy of it. I swear.” In my ears, this seems a too-solemn promise, but somehow it seems necessary in this moment. She doesn’t reply beyond another sigh.
    Running my hands over her, I spread her hair across my chest, fingertips trailing the sides of her face, hands kneading her shoulders and folding over her like a blanket. I have no problem falling asleep this time, with her locked in my arms.

 
Chapter 10
    REID
    Damn Brooke and her hangover comments. I’d say she knows me well, but I’m no different than any other eighteen to twenty-five in LA, especially the celebrity subset. I suspect she’s the same; she just likes being high-handed with me.
    Her orders, texted to me last night: Check into the hotel by TEN. The cars are picking everyone up at 11:30. Look hot. Don’t flirt. Be friendly and sweet. Make her think you’ve forgotten about her rejection.
    Rejection . Way to twist the knife there, Brooke… almost as if she doesn’t know she’s doing it. Damn, she’s good.
    I check into the hotel at 11:15, after not bothering to answer her texts and calls all morning. She’s got to get one thing straight—I’ll follow her dictates to a point, but only to a point. I don’t trust her enough to blindly obey everything she says, and I’m not stupid enough to ignore the fact that she’ll hit her goal first. For Emma to fall into my arms, Graham has to fall into Brooke’s. And I have no illusions about how much help Brooke will be to me once she gets what she wants. I’ll be on my own.
    After checking into my suite, I text Brooke: I’m here.
    The lobby is one big Austin déjà vu, and after I step off of the elevator, I stop to observe the interaction of my former costars before joining them. Tadd spots me first.
    “Reid, you’ve got to come to Chicago and hang out.” He walks over and we exchange a fierce hug. “My new place is awesome—penthouse right on the river. Oprah is just down the street.”
    “I’m sure you’ll be painting each other’s toenails in no time, man,” I laugh.
    “So, what’s up?” He tosses his straight pale blond hair out of his eyes, his clear blue eyes flicking to Emma and back.
    “Not yet, dude. I’m getting there, though.”
    Both eyebrows rise now. “Interesting.”
    My eyes trace over Emma. She stands a foot from Graham—nothing outwardly betraying anything between them, though an alert observer would say the way they seem to avoid touch or eye contact is conspicuous. “The studio wants us to maintain an illusory thing until the film’s released. I want less illusory and more thing .”
    “Hmm,” he says. “A warning, then.” Shoulder to shoulder, we stand watching everyone else. “There’s a little, I don’t know—chemistry? Going on between her and Graham.”
    No need to fake ignorance with Tadd—he’s had my back too many times to count. He likes Emma, but I’m sure he’d come down on my side if it came to that. “Yeah, I’ve been made aware.”
    He smirks through the fringe of hair that falls right back down over one eye—a look that probably gets him whatever guy he wants, whenever he wants it. “By who?” he asks, and I glance in Brooke’s direction. She’s deliberately snubbing me, still pissed that I ignored her texted commands, I’m sure. “ Really .” Tadd’s eyes widen. “ More interesting.”
    *** *** ***
    Emma
    Remaining hands-off with Graham is more difficult than I expected. I’m drawn to him, as though there’s some sort of gravitational attraction tethering us to each other.