When in Paris... (Language of Love) by Beverley Kendall

of pleasure.
    Before I turn three shades of pink, I direct my attention to the road. The grocery store is literally across the street, in a shopping complex two buildings down from his apartment building.
    “If April’s from Illinois, how’d you come to be best friends?” Zach asks, as we pull out of the parking lot.
    “We met while we were auditioning for a commercial.” It comes out in a rush, like I want nothing better than to be rid of it. I’m touchy about my childhood modeling and acting past.
    We hit the red light at the major intersection and the truck rolls smoothly to a stop, giving Zach the freedom to give me his focused attention for the next minute. I curse the light.
    I don’t want to look at him, but I know he’s giving me the same look people give me when they know I used to be one of those kids stage mothers carted around from audition to audition. I can only thank God my father stopped my mother from entering me in those kiddie beauty pageants. I could never have lived that down. I also thank God I wasn’t very successful. A pretty face does not a star make—the wise and often reiterated words of my father.
    “Don’t look at me like that.” I say this without looking at him.
    “How am I looking at you?” The low timbre of his voice has me jerking my gaze to him and he’s got this look in his eyes that start my heart thumping hard .
    “I don’t know, like everyone does when they find out.” My voice is tight as I steel myself for what’s to come, which is why I take the offensive. “They either feel sorry for me because it’s obvious my mother must be either pushy or self-absorbed—or both. Or they hate me because I must think I’m too cute to live. Either way, the fact never goes over well.”
    That’s a lesson I learned early on. Kids are not impressed with other kids who spend an inordinate amount of their spare time meeting with casting agents, photographers and are occasionally excused from school for said activities. Actually it’s the quickest way to get a new girl in a new school despised and shunned—mostly by the girls.
    He’s silent for so long, I don’t think he’s going to respond, adhering to the if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all philosophy.
    “Well, we know you don’t think you’re too cute to live. Although you may be too gorgeous for most of my friends. And no matter how bad your mom might be, she’s got nothing on my dad, so if people should feel sorry for anyone, it’s me.”
    His compliment knocks me over and he finishes off the job by flattening me with a sexy smile and a wink.

C HAPTER E IGHT

    ZACH
    I told her we’d be friends, knowing full well I want to get in her pants. And I’m pretty sure she wants me there as much as I want to be there.
    I’m still deciding whether I’m serious about it or not. If I am serious, what the hell am I doing? Obviously my head isn’t screwed on tight. Friends shouldn’t want to strip their friend naked and kiss every inch of their body.
    Me and Olivia alone in my truck is a bad idea because let’s face it, I don’t “do” the friend thing with girls like Olivia. Especially not when all I want is to do Olivia. And the last thing I planned to do tonight was to go grocery shopping with her.
    It’s that asshole Dillon’s fault for the T&A comment he made when we saw her coming. Christ, it’s like some guys have never seen a pretty girl before. I might have been able to ignore him if he were talking about some random girl, but I know Olivia. She’s not some girl to me. At least not now.
    And after hearing about her short-lived stint as a child wannabe actor, she got my reaction dead to center. That’s exactly how I pictured her mom after all the shit that went down when my aunt divorced my cheating-ass uncle. But God gave me brains for a reason and there’s no way I’ll ever admit that to her. She’s not responsible for her mom being a cheat and a home wrecker.
    “ Don’t