Celebrity by De Ross Melinda

Author:De Ross, Melinda
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Melinda De Ross Books
Published: 2017-11-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

The rooftop restaurant in downtown Los Angeles was the most spectacular place I’d ever seen. I didn’t know which was more magnificent: the spacious interior with its warm lights, jazz music and sheen of luxury, or the panorama beyond it. The maître d’ led us to a table on the spacious terrace. As I gazed out over the city, my skin rippled into goose bumps.

“My God, it’s beautiful out here,” I whispered.

“I hoped you’d like it,” Blake replied with a smile, holding the chair for me to sit. “I like it too, although I don’t get the chance to come here often.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged slightly, reaching for the menu.

“It’s hard to have much privacy when you’re in the public eye. I’ve learned to ignore the paparazzi, but they never stop hunting for fresh gossip. And when they don’t have anything real, they make it up. You’ve no idea how many weird stories I’ve read about myself,” he said, rolling his eyes in amusement.

I laughed, glancing at my own menu, but my eyes were drawn back to him.

“It must be frustrating to have your every move studied, interpreted, speculated upon. Do you ever get tired of it? Of thousands of women craving and adoring you?”

He answered in the same daring, humorous tone I’d used. “Well, now that you mentioned it, I do get some unusual mail...”

“Like what?”

“Oh, your average marriage proposals, sexual fantasies, loads of panties—I hate it when I get unwashed ones, by the way. Who would think that’s sexy?”

Laughter vibrated in my chest, and I was still trying to suppress my giggles when a dignified waiter arrived to take our order.

“Do you like Dom Perignon?” Blake asked me.

I nodded, wondering what the hell that was. I had heard the name of course, and figured it must be a classy alcoholic beverage, probably wine or champagne.

“Bring us a bottle of ‘81, please,” Blake asked the waiter.

“Of course, Mister Blake,” the man said with reverence. “And to eat?” he asked, bowing slightly to me.

I chose a Caesar salad and grilled chicken, while Blake opted for a medium rare steak, accompanied by something called golden potatoes.

“A typical man’s meal,” I remarked after the waiter left. “What are golden potatoes anyway?”

“They’re my favorites. I’m not sure how they’re cooked, but I assume they’re just boiled potatoes, which are then fried to give them a golden crust. The spices are the secret though. You can try some of mine—I guarantee you’ll love them.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him. “You sound as if you can cook.”

“I’m a very good cook.”

“Really?”

He must have sensed my skepticism because he smiled cockily. “I’ll give you a demonstration if you ask me nicely. Very nicely,” he emphasized the word. “But it’ll have to wait until I get back. Tomorrow we’re leaving for New York.”

“New York?”

“Yep. Mark has finally found a spot where he wants to film—Bannerman Castle, on Pollepel Island.”

My forehead creased as I tried to place the name. “It sounds familiar.”

“It’s a famous setting, which was used in several movies, novels, even music videos.

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