What You Don't Know (Sequel to "Secret Love")(Hunter Hayes/James Marsden)

Wanting

Don't hate me.

Also, my family and I just got done moving, so perhaps I'll be able to update more? I hope so. I hope so. Fingers crossed.

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God Bless and Happy Reading!

"Trenton's coming back today."

Bethany looked up from her clipboard and saw that Tonya, the set designer, was giving her a knowing smile. She was momentarily distracted by that smile, not sure what it meant, so her reply was a beat off, as was her laugh.

"I know. It'll be nice to have the head honcho back. These dang chorus boys barely listen to me," she complained, shaking her head and dropping her clipboard to her side.

Tonya Romans was a lady of about thirty-five, and had worked with Trenton and Bethany on West Side Story, as well. Bethany had been friendly with her during the last production, but Tonya had her first child, a lovely little boy by the name of Eric, only but a few months before Catch Me If You Can had begun, so she was pinched for both time and energy. Bethany hardly faulted her for being disinclined toward social outings; she could only imagine that if she and Hunter ever had a child, she would look as exhausted as Tonya did.

The other woman laughed at Bethany's excuse for wanting Trenton back.

"Right," Tonya remarked, drawing out the word sarcastically. "That's why you want him back." She winked at Bethany, who blushed.

"Of course that's why I want him back." She looked away, in the direction of the stage, and heard Tonya chortle again.

"I see the way you look at him, Beth. You've obviously got a thing for him, though heaven only knows why."

Bethany refrained from rolling her eyes. Tonya sounded exactly like Benny.

"Oh? And how do I look at him, Tonya?" She questioned, deciding to play along with her friend's teasing.

She shook her head at Bethany. "Like he's your hero."

"What's that I hear about a hero?"

The voice came from behind them, and Bethany's heart leapt into overdrive at the sound of it. They both turned to look up at Trenton - neither of them were very tall - and found him smiling broadly...directly at Bethany.

He seemed different. Thinner, less intimidating, more energetic. She had worked up an image of him in her mind: Trenton, livid and rouge, spitting poisonous words into her face for snooping in his private office. She had been so sure he knew - he had to know - what she had seen, and the connections she was even now pondering.

This Trenton was the one who had taken her to his favorite underground restaurant, and shared with her that he had an ill-gotten reputation that he despised. This was the Trenton who had promised her he could wait, had let them take their time.

She was not prepared for this Trenton. When he bent and wrapped her in a hug, she returned it fiercely, surprising even herself. She squealed when he plucked her off the ground and spun her in a circle, hiding her face in his neck. He smelled like the sun. It was pleasant.

He held onto her a moment longer, even after her feet returned to the tile. He leaned over and whispered to her.

"I missed you so much."

She hid her smile in his blazer and replied, "Yeah, me, too."

He finally released her, but kept her hand trapped in his.

"It's good to see you, Tonya," he greeted the raven-haired woman with a smile. He adjusted his gold-tinted glasses on his nose and asked, "How's Eric doing?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't stand here talking to me, Trenton. Take Bethany out for lunch! Go, go, go!"

Bethany laughed, watching her practically shoo them out of the door. When they had entered the sunlight, Trent turned to her and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"I have Jell-O and Triscuits at my place."

She laughed. "Ooh, tempting. Do you have any cheese for the crackers?"

He tapped a finger against his chin and replied, "I may have some squeeze cheese somewhere, but I'm not sure I'm willing to share."

She hit him square in the chest.

"Well, fine! If you aren't going to share your squeeze cheese with me, will you at least offer me some wine? Your cast has been driving me crazy today, and I could use a good pinot noir."

"You are a greedy little thing, aren't you?"

You are a greedy little thing, aren't you, love?

That long ago dream popped into her head at Trent's words. She remembered Hunter saying the same thing, every time she would beg for another kiss, another hug, another song in her ear. That felt like a lifetime ago. Was that really her? Was she remembering memories? Or were they figments of her imagination?

Right now, only Trenton felt real. He confused every bone in her body. He was dangerous and she knew she could not trust him. He was fat and bald and his clothes were constantly prickly with salt from peanuts and smoky from cigars. Yet, here she stood, inexplicably attracted to him as he looked at her like the world did not exist around them.

"I'll tell you what," he spoke more quietly now, having sensed the subtle shift in her body language. He stroked her face, thinking it was a shame she had her hair pulled back. He would have loved to run his fingers through it.

"I'll share my food with you...if you don't pull away."

He saw a moment of hesitation flash in her brown irises, but just as quickly saw it vanish. He leaned closer, licked his lips in preparation, and saw her eyes flutter shut.

He closed the distance, kissed just the very corner of her mouth, gently, like a butterfly landing on a flower petal. When she did not resist, he moved more fully into their joining, and felt her arms go around his waist. His hands remained on her shoulders, as he felt all of her hesitation wash away.

Bethany was lost: in the kiss, in the moment, in the guilt. This had never been part of the plan. It was not part of her mission. Then again, it had never been her intention to feel this way, either. How could she have known that Trent could be charming? How could she have known he could be funny, or that he could melt her defenses with one look of absolute adoration?

There was no mistaking it now: Trenton McDermott was in love with her. She would not deny that again, and she knew that she could sew up this assignment in a matter of a few weeks if she played her cards right.

As she stood there on the crowded street, tasting her first kiss with the man she had once considered the most formidable traitor, she found she wanted to stay. She wanted to discover this man's secrets, down to the bone.

She wanted to prove he was who the FBI said he was, so she could be free of this confusion. She wanted him to be a murderer; she wanted him to be a bad man. She wanted him to slip up, to confess. She wanted him to be dangerous.

After all, that was what made him so interesting.