Superstar Page 7

  Maximo had a weakness for feisty women. He especially had a weakness around Camryn Castillo that had nothing to do with her temper and everything to do with his libido. He’d fought the attraction all day yesterday and into the evening, contenting himself with a simple good-night kiss. Then he’d heard the news from Lenni, which prompted a string of reactions leading to his and Raquel’s exit from the Roma Palace Hotel. He’d changed his mind about canceling the interview, deciding he wanted to teach Camryn a lesson once and for all.

  At the moment, he wanted to pin her against the elevator wall and do unmentionable things, and had to wonder just who was receiving the lesson here. He had a desire to prove that her affront was an act or, at the very least, that he could melt away her fury with his mouth and his hands. Max suspected all it would take was one well-placed brush of his lips. On her throat, under her jawline, or a combination thereof.

  “Back up,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

  “I thought we weren’t answering questions that weren’t related to the interview?” she retorted.

  That sassy mouth. Maximo fought off a smile. He hadn’t thought his aggravation and discontent with her would be so severely tested. He’d planned to drive her away with his negligence, yet here he stood, drawn close like a moth to a flame.

  The elevator doors opened with a quiet hiss.

  “Excuse me.” Camryn pushed past with a little shove of her shoulder to his.

  “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?” he repeated, his longer stride easily keeping up with her. He didn’t like reporters and journalists, so his pursuit of this one was both confusing and puzzling. Feisty and sassy women were fairly easy to come by, so it wasn’t just that.

  Camryn faced him once she reached the door to her suite. Her expression was as frosty as any Max had ever seen. Snowmen were warmer.

  “I actually thought about it several times, but I didn’t want to throw a damp towel on the fun. Call me selfish,” she said.

  “You intentionally misled me.” Max wouldn’t call it an outright lie. Omitting an obvious truth, however, didn’t sit well with him.

  “We’ve already established that. Yes, I misled you. Yes, I knew who you were all along. Everything was going so smoothly that I didn’t want to mess it up.” She lifted a hand and slapped it down on her thigh, as if to say, so sue me. “Besides, I know you loathe reporters, and I figured it might spell disaster if I told you who I was before the interview.”

  Max braced a hand against the wall near Camryn’s head. He wished he wasn’t so enamored of the spark in her eyes or the flush on her cheeks. He also wished things hadn’t gone so well between them yesterday, making a clean break harder on his end than he’d hoped. “I wouldn’t have been all that happy,” he admitted.

  “You’re not happy now, so it was doomed to fail no matter what. So you got what you wanted today—which was to drive me away. I don’t know why you’re lingering.” She flippantly brushed an escaped lock of hair away from her cheek.

  “I don’t know why I’m lingering either.” The confession was out before he could stop it. Maximo realized he meant it, too.

  Camryn looked back at his face, his eyes. She seemed puzzled over his statement.

  “Tell you what,” Max said, further surprising himself. “Why don’t we start over?

  “What, you mean like . . . from the very beginning?” she asked, a bemused frown on her brow.

  “Something like that. We’ll forgo introductions and pick up where we were originally supposed to pick up. With the interview.” Max watched various emotions cross Camryn’s expressive face: wariness, skepticism, a flicker of hope. She was still somewhat defensive, but he could see her iron will start to bend. Just a little.

  Later, much later, he could consider his own actions over a bottle of wine.

  “All right. When do you want to do the interview, then?” she asked. Her voice was softer, less edgy.

  “How about right now?”

  Eleven

  The inferno Maximo lit downstairs in the garden became a different kind of heat. Camryn didn’t think she imagined the renewed spark between them, nor Maximo’s lingering stares. His cynical quips and flippant remarks gave way to straightforward dialogue and then, shockingly, an offer to do the interview again.

  Although the physical pull Max asserted was almost impossible to ignore, Camryn reminded herself of Raquel. Speculation about an affair was one thing, but she’d personally witnessed the two coming out of his suite and dining together downstairs. Now that she had proof of their relationship, she wouldn’t give in to the urge to take things one step farther.

  “Right now is perfect. Where would you like to do it? I think we made a pretty big spectacle in the garden.” Cam wasn’t anxious to return anytime soon.

  “How about your room? We can set up near the window with a view of Palatine Hill behind me or something.”

  Holy smokes. Camryn wasn’t sure she could handle Maximo in her room. Yet the prospect offered privacy and the intimate setting she constantly talked about to promote her interviews.

  “Sounds good to me.” She turned to the door and let them inside. The mini suite was relatively clean, barring a few stray pieces of clothing she’d tossed hastily aside. After moving to the window, she arranged the table and chairs to advantageous angles, using the ruins as a backdrop like he’d suggested. There was enough diffused sunlight to create a romantic, hazy portrait, which she thought would work well with the interview.

  Fifteen minutes later, after she’d snapped a handful of photos, she sat opposite Max and got down to asking questions. Unlike earlier in the garden, she stayed completely away from the subject of Raquel, and instead focused on his preference to remain mostly out of the spotlight. She delved a little into his background and also talked about upcoming work. Camryn inquired about interviews, or the lack of them. Maximo patiently explained that he simply preferred to leave all the drama on the big screen.

  Once Camryn was satisfied she’d asked the majority of her questions, she turned off the recorder, set down her notepad, and smiled. “It’s a shame you don’t like to do more of these. Interviews, that is. You’re very good at them.”

  “I’m glad you approve.” Reclining lazily in the chair, Max looked every bit a superstar.

  Camryn had enjoyed herself immensely, despite their rough start this afternoon. The atmosphere was mellow and companionable, with a simmering flirtation lurking at the edge of their conversation. Nothing she would encourage now, which was slightly depressing after yesterday.

  Maximo reached over and slid the recorder closer, along with her notepad. Cam nearly yanked the latter out of his hand, nervous for him to see her scribbled notes. He seemed to pay no attention as he turned to a fresh page and picked up her pen.

  What was he doing?

  “All right. Your turn,” Max said.

  Camryn stared. “What?”

  “I’d like to interview you.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  He laughed. “Not at all. Don’t you want to?”

  Camryn discovered she did not want to be interviewed at all. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m wary of what you’ll ask.” Just then, Camryn realized how it felt to be in his shoes, never knowing what question might come out of someone’s mouth.

  “You don’t have anything to hide, right?” he asked.

  “N . . . no. I mean, of course not. It’s just . . .”

  “Just what?” He tapped the end of the pen on the paper.

  Cam once again wished she could see his eyes. The tinted sunglasses obscured too many secrets she might glean. “I’m not a star. No one would be interested in anything I had to say.”

  “I’m interested. But you knew that,” he countered.

  “You can ask me in person instead of read about it. That’s got to be more exciting. But I get your point. I see what it’s like to be put
on the spot.” Camryn could admit that, at least.

  “That isn’t why I want to interview you,” he said.

  Camryn plucked the recorder off the table and took her notepad from his fingers. “I can’t imagine what kind of questions you want to ask.”

  “We could start with your business, or discuss your family. Or you could tell me five things that turn you on. I learn something new about you either way.”

  Camryn dropped the notepad. She picked it up off the floor and smiled wryly across the table. “You’ve got good instincts. Maybe you missed your true calling.”

  He laughed. “Isn’t that what reporters like to do? Catch their victims off guard?”

  “Interviewees are hardly victims!” She knew he was teasing, and laughed along with him. There was no way she would discuss sexual preferences, not after spotting him with Raquel.

  “So I guess you’re declining my interview,” he said.

  “Stingy of me, I know. But yes.” Camryn hated the words that came next. “I won’t be able to make dinner tonight. I’m sorry about that. I have to get this interview edited and prepare my post.”

  All Max’s amusement disappeared in a flash. After a moment, he nodded. “All right. I should be going, myself.”

  “Thank you for doing the interview,” Cam said, standing up from her chair.

  “You’re welcome.” Max stood as well. “I look forward to reading the article.”

  “I’ll try to do it justice.” Camryn hated forcing herself to end her time with Max. But it was better this way, she knew, than to risk a broken heart.

  She followed Max to the door and watched him step into the hall. This was it. The last intimate moments with Maximo Payne. Camryn wasn’t sure what to say. Everything sounded like a final goodbye in her mind.

  Max seemed equally at a loss. After an awkward smile, he headed off down the hallway.

  Cam closed the door, resisting the urge to call him back. She had the undeniable feeling that she’d just lost something great.

  With conflicting emotions, Max exited the hotel through the garden doors. A girl he’d just met a few days ago shouldn’t be this far under his skin. She was a reporter, he reminded himself, which was reason enough to keep his distance.

  Yet thoughts of Camryn persisted. Even when paparazzi bombarded him at the side gate, the woman was on his mind. He needed to get over it. That entire situation was more trouble than it was worth.

  Circled by a perimeter of security guards, Max walked to the idling sedan and sank into the backseat.

  So much for a private vacation in Italy. Everyone knew he was here.

  Photographers shoved their cameras at the windows of the car until the driver pulled away. Max didn’t need to be told that paparazzi would follow to the next destination, where yet more paparazzi probably waited. He couldn’t keep his location a secret for long.

  “Back entrance? There are at least fifty photographers at the front of the hotel,” the driver said some minutes later.

  “Yes.” Max knew there would be a few on rooftops or in windows of neighboring buildings, snapping pictures of him with their telephoto lenses. At least he wouldn’t have to physically fight his way through the crowd just to enter the hotel.

  The transfer from the sedan to the back door happened swiftly. Max breathed easier once he was inside and out of the range of the photographers. He traversed the halls and elevators with practiced ease, winding up at a top floor suite with a view of the Colosseum.

  Max found Raquel sitting in a chair in the opulent surroundings, one leg dangling over the armrest. She had an expectant look on her face and a glass of wine in her hand.

  “I know, I know. You have questions,” he said, striding to the kitchen for a bottle of chilled water. Hard liquor would have been better for the upcoming conversation, but he decided to retain his coherency.

  He’d had his fun with Camryn, now it was time to pay the piper.

  Twelve

  It was three in the morning when a bleary-eyed Camryn posted her interview with Maximo. She’d worked tirelessly to make it exciting and different and upbeat. The photos she’d snapped of Max by the window, with the ruins of Palatine Hill in the background, had turned out spectacularly well. He looked pensive in one, sexy in another. She had even snapped one of him smiling.

  The smile had a devastating effect on her composure. She knew women the world over would fall in love with Maximo all over again. This was a side few got to see, making the interview the first of its kind where Max was concerned.

  Once she was done with work, she uploaded the rest of her photos to a cloud service for backup. Camryn paused over several pictures of her and Maximo at different tourist sites. Pompeii, the Colosseum, the Roman Forum. If no one knew better, they might believe she and Max were a happy couple on vacation. Maybe a honeymoon.

  But they weren’t a couple, and never would be.

  The pictures she’d taken of Max dumped over in the chair lightened her mood considerably. Oh, if she only dared to upload that to the front page of Integrity. The site might implode with all the hits from the Internet. Legs askew in the air, hands flailing, it was a million-dollar shot the world would never get to see.

  She examined the photos of Max and Raquel next, then abruptly shut down the computer. Raquel Howard was one lucky girl.

  The next morning, she somberly packed her suitcase and prepared to leave Rome. She’d got what she came for. It was time to go home. Camryn studiously avoided thinking about Maximo as she double-checked the vanities and desks for any items she might have left behind.

  Her phone erupted with messages just as she dragged her suitcase toward the door of her suite. She was sure it was Lark. It wasn’t quite ten in the morning, Rome time, which meant it was 1:00 a.m. in California. Pausing to dig out her phone, Camryn called Lark rather than type out lengthy messages. She knew what the call was about anyway.

  The interview.

  “Cam! Have you seen the site?” Lark asked. She sounded wired, as if she hadn’t slept in days.

  “No. I’ve been packing. I’m due at the airport in an hour.” She waited to hear the news. Somehow she wasn’t quite as excited as she hoped she would be.

  “We’re up to fifty-five thousand followers! And it’s the middle of the night! You can’t believe what’s happened to our in-box either.”

  “That’s a lot of new people. We figured Maximo would have that kind of pull.” Cam leaned her shoulder against the wall by the door. She had a few minutes to spare before catching a taxi.

  “You don’t even sound excited. What’s the matter with you?”

  “I’m excited. Just tired. I was up late writing the piece and uploading pictures.” Cam knew that was a lame excuse. Lark knew it, too.

  “You’re maudlin. I can hear it in your voice. But don’t be. This is going to be an amazing day. By the time you land, your interview will be all over everywhere. I’ve even had a few calls from television stations wanting more information. You might squeeze a few live interviews out of this whole thing.” Lark noisily sipped from a can or glass in the background.

  Power drinks were Lark’s standby. Camryn wished she had something equally energy-lifting at the moment. The rumble of a masculine voice sounded above Lark’s slurping, though she couldn’t make out the words. Cam didn’t think it sounded like Lark’s boyfriend, José.

  “Who’s over?” Cam asked.

  “Denny. He’s been with me, watching the site’s stats skyrocket.”

  An active reporter for Rocket, Denny Harrison was known for his aggressive style and in-your-face interviews. Cam and Lark had remained acquaintances with him, along with several others, after departing the tabloid.

  “Keep an eye on the site. I’ll see you when I get home.” Camryn rang off, feeling no better or more enlightened than she had before the call.

  Downstairs, as she entered the lobby, she caught the eye of a security guard standing off to the side. Then she noticed more guards near the doors
, and finally the throng of paparazzi waiting outside.

  Like sharks circling prey.

  She did not want to face that before climbing into the cab. Several photographers were trying to cajole the security team for access to the lobby, which prompted Cam to hurry to the desk and complete her check-out process.

  “I don’t suppose it’s any better at the gate?” Cam asked the security guard.

  “Unfortunately, no. They’ve picked up on that already,” the guard said.

  Of course they had. Camryn struggled to contain her annoyance.

  “All right. Let’s do it, then.” Gripping her suitcase, she tucked her chin and fell into step behind the temporary bodyguard. He was tall and broad and muscular and provided a decent shield. The doors swooshed open.

  “Camryn! How long have you and Maximo been together?”

  “Was this a one-night stand?”

  “Ms. Castillo, what are your thoughts on Max’s rumored affair with Raquel Howard?”

  Someone shoved a camera into her face and snapped a picture of her nostril.

  Lovely.

  She needed a hat. And where were her sunglasses? Jostled from the left and right, she kept her head down and avoided all eye contact. Shutters clicked in frenzied succession. How odd it was to be on the other side of the chaos.

  After handing off her suitcase to a waiting member of the security team, she ducked her head and climbed inside the taxi.

  She closed the door with a thud and turned her face away from the window. Photographers were on the other side of the car now, and in front of it, shouting, snapping photos, and doing everything in their power to prevent the vehicle from moving forward.

  Lark was right. She had become the story.

  Groaning with discontent, Camryn pulled her purse onto her lap and sought a piece of gum just as the taxi driver surged away from the hotel.

  “You’re not dragging any bodies under the car, are you?” The teasing, cynical quip was out before Cam could stop it.

  “Not today. I can go back and try again,” the driver joked, and laughed.