Celebrity 1 - Wrong Number, Right Guy Read Free

Beverly Hills. How could she possibly expect her personal assistant to add bubbles to her carbonated water? And who the hell insisted that her room only be decked out in hot pink? It was actors like her that gave them all a bad name.
    Dar wouldn’t have thrown a glass of water across a room. He was too pleasant.
Ryan turned his head to the side, looking at the phone. Should I call? Would that be weird? There’d be no way to hide the fact that he’d copied the number down after talking to him the other day. Was that too needy?
Ryan caught his bottom lip in his teeth. He rolled up on his side. It had been four days. The weekend was coming after one more day of shooting. Maybe if things went well, they could meet up for drinks or something.
No. He didn’t even have to finish that thought. There wasn’t a chance that would happen. Ryan knew better than to risk a paparazzi fest like that one. Dar’s name, printed on the pad of paper, seemed to glow in the lamp light.
He flexed his fingers nervously. He probably wouldn’t even pick up, Ryan decided. He snatched the phone and hurriedly dialed.
“Dar speaking.”
At the sound of his voice, Ryan’s own froze.
“Hello?”
“Hi. It’s Ryan,” he said when he could finally force his throat to work. Man, he didn’t remember ever feeling this stupid. It was like grade school when you went over to a kid and asked him if he’d like to be your new best friend. It was the same clammy handed, chest-tightening sensation of anxiety that someone would know you and reject you out of hand.
Fame insured people liked him. Dar didn’t know Ryan was famous. The onus of likability lay completely on Ryan’s personality. Ugh.
“Ryan?”
“From the other night.” Great. I’m not even memorable .
“Oh, right. Ryan Fenmore, the not famous guy I wrongly called.” Dar laughed lightly on the other end.
Ryan smiled into the receiver. Whatever it was that made this guy so happy, Ryan wanted a piece of it. “Yeah, that’s the one. I hope you don’t mind. I have caller ID and I kept your number.”
“You hung up on me last time. I’m kind of surprised you’d want to keep my number.”
“Sorry about that. I’m not real good with…” With what? People? Jacking off on the phone? Talking to people who have a knack for knowing my secrets?
“Phones?” Dar supplied, amusement ringing in his voice.
Ryan sighed. “Yeah. Damn fuckers are confusing.”
Dar laughed loudly. Ryan joined in, feeling suddenly lighter.
“Well, I’m glad you figured it out to call me back,” Dar said gently.
“You are?”
“I liked talking to you. To be honest, I was kind of hoping you’d call sooner,” Dar confessed.
“You were?” Ryan asked incredulously.
“I was.”
“So is this a good time?” Hope stacked higher in his chest. He breathed easier. Dar wanted to talk to him, too. Ryan felt like a kid on a first date—excited and awkward.
“Hang on. Let me just get comfortable. Gotta plump up these pillows,” Dar said.
Ryan felt hot all over. Dar was lying in bed, too, talking to him, his words drifting unobstructed into Ryan’s ear. Ryan rearranged himself on his bed, pushing pillows under his head and shoulders.
“You know that movie that’s supposed to film on Main Street?”
“Yeah,” Ryan hedged.
“Brett has been trying to get in as an extra and talked me into going down there at lunch today.”
Ryan’s stomach flipped. He’d been down there preparing for the scene where the bank windows are blown out. He’d seen the throngs of extras hoping for their shot at fame. Which one had been Dar?
“I take it from your tone that you didn’t get in,” Ryan concluded.
“No, but Brett’s pretty determined. He thinks if he gets to meet Ryan Pierce, that Ryan will fall in love with him and ask him to move to Hollywood. He’s going back downtown tomorrow.”
Ryan licked his lips, knowing he’d say the words and probably regret them later. “Tell him I’ll make sure he gets in if he presents