L.A. Confidential. Julie Kenner
quickening when he caught her eye and the corner of his mouth turned up in a secret smile meant only for her.
Two years older than Lisa, Ken had just turned twenty-six. Even so, he commanded the room. His clear blue eyes looked every guest in the face, his firm handshake making each feel welcome and comfortable. Lisa knew from experience that those hands were callused and rough, but that would only serve to endear him to the public. Though his classic good looks might suggest otherwise, Ken wasn’t a man who shied away from hard work.
His tailored silk suit wasn’t pretentious, but neither was it off the rack, and the ensemble gave him a cultured yet accessible quality that Lisa was sure would attract the clientele in droves. As Ken was fond of saying, in the restaurant industry, the food had to be perfect. And everything else—the space, the service, the ambience—had to live up to that standard.
His eyes never left hers as he moved easily through the crowd until he was by her side, his hand warm against her bare back as he dipped his head to kiss her cheek. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” His feather-soft whisper teased her senses.
Pressing her forefinger to her lip, she pretended to consider. “Mmm. Let’s see…gorgeous, stunning, amazing. But no, not beautiful.”
He moved behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders as he leaned close. “You’re beautiful.”
She grinned. “And you’re a charmer.”
“True,” he said, sliding onto the stool next to her. “But I’m an honest charmer.”
He signaled to Chris, who brought him a sparkling water with lime, and then Ken started asking the bartender’s opinion of how the opening was going. She watched as the two men talked, impressed once again with the life that was hers since she’d moved to Los Angeles.
She’d shocked everyone in her small Idaho hometown when she’d applied for early admission to U.C.L.A. and moved to the big, bad city right after her junior year of high school. Of course, the move hadn’t come as any huge surprise for her mother. After all, Lisa’d spent her entire life with her face behind a lens—first her grandfather’s ancient Super 8, and then the school’s video camera. Still, her mom had been nervous about her firstborn moving to California at seventeen.
She’d done them proud, though. She finished her undergrad work in a little under three years and was immediately accepted into the graduate film program. Long hours, intense competition, relentless professors…and she’d loved every minute of it. In fact, her life would have been nothing but school if she hadn’t met Ken.
They’d met at a party, and so far their lives meshed perfectly. Ken was as involved with his restaurant as she was with her films. Their rare free time they spent together, and Lisa had become accustomed to sitting at one of the empty tables at Oxygen studying or annotating a script while Ken worked out details with the construction crew or his staff.
They’d become comfortable together, and she liked the feeling. In so many ways the relationship was different than what she’d had with her past boyfriends. For one thing, he insisted that he didn’t want to have sex until after marriage, although they’d done everything but.
Lisa found it hard to believe that a man as sexy and alluring as Ken was a virgin, but she’d never asked him outright if that was the case. Rather, she’d agreed with his parameters. She adored Ken, but she didn’t intend to let anything—including thoughts of marriage—get between her and her goal of making it in the movie business. And if that meant keeping some tiny modicum of distance between them, well, so be it.
She took another sip of wine, watching as Ken finished chatting with Chris. Then he turned back to her and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the simple gesture somehow more intimate that a kiss.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, as she fought a blush. She usually pulled her annoyingly thick hair back in a pony-tail, but for tonight, she’d gone all out and had it done up in a chignon by the hotel’s stylist. She had to admit, it looked great. “How are you holding up?” he asked. “Tired?”
“Not at all.”
He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You haven’t slept in days. Are you sure you’re not a tiny bit tired?”
While Ken had been readying for his opening, she’d been awake for two solid days shooting the last few scenes of her thesis film. She’d pushed her actors and crew hard, but they’d delivered.
Maybe it was simply a student film, but she was producing and directing it, and that was more than just a baby step. It was a giant leap toward the one thing she’d wanted for her whole life—producing real, honest-to-goodness Hollywood movies. “I’m operating on adrenaline. My film, your restaurant. I’ve got energy to burn.”
“Glad to hear it.” He looked away for a moment to wave at someone across the room, and when he looked back, his stormy-blue eyes were dark with undisguised passion. “I was hoping you’d have some energy left over after this is through.” He pressed a card key into her hand. “The hotel put me in the penthouse for the night. If you get tired, head on up and I’ll meet you there.”
She nodded, clutching the key in her hand as he bent and kissed her. He tasted of champagne, and she trembled as she pulled his head closer to her own, deepening their kiss even as she fought the sudden prick of tears at her eyes. Ken worked some mysterious alchemy on her soul, and she knew that if she let him get too close, he was the one person in the world for whom she’d consider abandoning her dreams.
In a way, the knowledge was warm and reassuring. But, mostly, it terrified her.
He pulled away, one finger under her chin tilting her head up. “You okay?”
“Fine.” She smiled. “I’m terrific.”
“I need to go mingle.” He presented his arm. “Care to join me?”
“You go on. I guess I am a little tired. I just want to sit here and watch everyone fawn over you.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ll see you in a bit, then.”
As soon as he moved away, the crowd engulfed him. Yes, Chris was right. In five years, Ken Harper was going to be the uncontested king of the Los Angeles restaurant scene.
She turned back to the bar, then took an idle sip of wine.
“Something wrong?”
She looked into Chris’s concerned face, then realized she was frowning. “No. I’m fine. Just tired.”
He looked dubious, but one of the waitresses came to the service area, and he left to fill her orders. In truth, she wasn’t fine. Ken was firmly on his path to success, but she was on the verge of graduating and still hadn’t found decent work. She’d had offers, of course, but mostly the jobs had involved working long hours as part of the crew for a low-budget film. Not bad for starting out, but Lisa wanted to be a development executive at one of the major studios before she was thirty—and with a goal like that, she needed to land a stellar, high-profile job right out of the gate.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t yet found one.
Determined to pull herself out of her funk, she twisted back around to watch the crowd. She tried to find Ken, but instead found herself sucking in a startled breath when she saw Drake Tyrell—one of the country’s hottest independent producers—heading right toward her.
“Miss Neal.” He slipped onto the empty stool next to her, then signaled to Chris to freshen his drink. Through the whole process, she just sat there gaping, awed that he even remembered who she was. “It’s good to see you again.”
She swallowed. “Thank you. Sir. I mean…it’s good to see you, too.” She fought a cringe, knowing she sounded like a tongue-tied fool. “I’m surprised you remember me.” He’d taught a weekend seminar, and she’d been one of two hundred students crammed into a small auditorium. Hardly the opportunity to stand out.
“Of course I remember.”