After another round in the shower, finally getting clean, and the water running cold, we pulled on some clothes, and I am busy packing my bag for the LA trip.
“I’m only going for one night,” I remind him.
“No, we’re going to be gone for a few days.” He glances back down at his iPad, missing my scowl.
“We aren’t going anywhere.” I plant my hands on my hips and glare at him.
“I’m coming with you.” He still doesn’t look up from his dumb iPad.
“Why?”
“Makes sense.” He shrugs. “My house is there. We’ll stay there, and I’ve scheduled meetings that I needed to have anyway for while we’re there.”
“When, exactly, were you going to share these plans with me?”
I don’t know why I’m so pissed, but I am. We’ve been together for a few weeks. It’s not his place to make arrangements around me, for me, without talking to me. I’m not his possession.
“I’m telling you now.”
“Look,” I begin, but he throws the iPad down on the bed, pulls his long, lean body off the bed and cups my face in his hands.
“I don’t want to be away from you for a few days. I’m not ready for that. I want to have you in my bed. I want to see you in my house. I want to show you my beach. It’s only for a few days, and I didn’t say anything before because I know how fucking stubborn you are and I knew you’d say no.”
“It’s only overnight.” I frown at him, part of me completely giddy that he wants to be with me, but wary that neither of us can stand the thought of being apart for just a few hours.
He closes his eyes for a brief second, shakes his head and clenches his jaw as he looks at me again. I’ve hurt his feelings.
“But I’d like to see your house,” I amend thoughtfully. “You live on the beach?”
His body relaxes, and his face calms. “I do.”
“Have you ever had sex on the beach?” I ask him.
He smirks, and his thumbs rub my cheeks softly. “No.”
“I have.” I shrug and smirk when he narrows his eyes on me. “We’ll need a blanket ’cause I do not need sand in my bits and pieces.”
“So, you’re assuming we’ll have sex on my beach?”
“I’m pretty sure.” I kiss him quickly and pull out of his embrace, getting back to packing. “Shit, I need more stuff.”
As he laughs, I stomp out of the room to my closet room to choose more clothes for our trip to sunny California. When I return, he’s sitting on the bed again, examining his iPad.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Reading e-mail, setting up appointments.”
“No one is working at this time of night,” I remind him.
“No, but when they get my messages tomorrow, they’ll make it happen.”
“So, you say, ‘Jump,’ and all of your little followers ask, ‘How high?’” I ask with a raised brow, fold some khaki capris and lay them in my suitcase.
“Pretty much.” He shrugs.
“Must be rough,” I mutter sarcastically.
“I pay their salaries,” he reminds me. “They can make time to meet with me.”
He has a point. I nod and finish packing my bag as a thought occurs to me. “Holy shit, you’re going to ride in coach with me on the plane tomorrow?”
He snickers and then breaks out into a full-on belly laugh. “No, sweetheart. We’ll take Columbia’s jet.”
“What?” I sputter.
“Well, one of their jets.” He frowns deeply. “If I get on that plane with you, we’ll have a mess on our hands.”
I nod slowly. “Fans.”
“Yeah.”
I take a deep breath and meet his eyes with my own. “I hate that part.” He scowls, and I feel the need to clarify. “I’m so proud of you, babe.” I climb on the bed and straddle his hips and wrap my arms around his neck. “I love your music, and I am proud that you do what you love.”
“But,” he prompts me, his large hands gliding up and down my back.
“But.” I frown, trying to gather my thoughts. “The fame part makes me nervous.”
“Hell, it makes me nervous.”
“Been there, done that,” I remind him. “Have the baggage to prove it.”
“Look, Sam, I don’t expect you to be a part of the celebrity side of my life. That’s just work. If I worked in an office, I wouldn’t take you there with me. If you want things to be on the down-low, fine, but I won’t lie. You’re mine.” He kisses me and pulls his fingers down my cheek. “But we don’t have to take out a spread in a magazine either.”
“Okay,” I agree.
“The reality is, we’ll be photographed at some point. The press will catch on. After a while, it’ll be old news.”
I nod, knowing he’s right. This is the shitty part. If I don’t want to deal with his celebrity status, I’ll have to choose to lose him. Because he is who he is. He can’t change it.
And I don’t want him to.
“Okay,” I say again and smile at him. “No biggie.”
“You’re not a good liar,” he murmurs, his eyes serious. “It’s not as intense as what Luke went through, babe. His fans were obsessive. Mine are just…persistent.”
I shake my head and chuckle. “Okay.”
“Do you know any other words than ‘okay’?” he asks.
“Yes,” I respond simply.
“Brat.” He laughs and hugs me to him. “Don’t sweat it, sweetheart. We’ll be fine.”
I rest my head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.
God, he makes me nervous.
***
“What time is your interview?” Leo asks. He’s sitting next to me in the limo as we leave the airport.
I’m still squirming in my seat, wet and swollen. Who knew private airplane sex could be so fun?
Leo’s smile is smug. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” I lift my chin and smooth my skirt over my legs. “Um, interview is at two this afternoon.”
“Good, we have time to go to my place first.”
“Where do you live?” I ask, curious to see where he calls home, and nervous as hell, and not about the interview.
Why does it make me nervous to be going to Leo’s house?
“Malibu,” he responds and kisses my knuckles.
“But my interview is in Burbank,” I remind him.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be there on time.” The limo pulls onto the freeway, and Leo draws me to him, wraps his arm around me, and my eyes drift closed. I’m so damn tired. I didn’t sleep well last night, afraid that I’d sleep through the alarm.
“Sleep,” he whispers to me and kisses my hair. “I’ll wake you when we get there.”
I try to sleep, but I just can’t seem to shut my brain down. I’m too nervous about seeing Leo’s house, about today’s interview, about the possibility of being recognized with him.
Yeah, that’s the part that makes me the most nervous. It’s been a long time since I saw my photo in a magazine, and I’d rather not start again now. Not to mention, I turn into a raging bitch when I’m nervous.
Not good.
“What are you thinking?” he asks softly.
My eyes find his in surprise, and he smiles softly. “I know you’re not sleeping.”
“Just thinking about the interview.” It’s only a half lie.
“You’ll do great.” His voice is flat.
“What’s wrong?” I ask with a frown.
“I just know you don’t want to move down here.” He shrugs.
“I’m not going over this again.” I roll my eyes and lean my cheek against his chest again.
“You’ll do great,” he repeats. “Here we are.”
The limo drives through a gate and parks before a large, modern, white home. Shrubs line the driveway, flower gardens here and there. “You must have a gardener.”
“I do.” He smiles and offers me his hand to help me out of the car. The driver tugs ou
r bags out of the trunk and sets them on the front steps.
“We’re good from here, thanks.” Leo nods at him.
“Very good, sir.” The driver tips his hat and drives away.
“Welcome.” Leo grins and kisses me softly, unlocks the door and motions for me to go in ahead of him.
I feel like I’ve walked into the Twilight Zone.
I’m completely confused.
I hate it.
“This is…nice,” I mutter, my eyes trying to take everything in.
It’s ultramodern. There is a white baby grand piano resting over a polar bear rug in one corner of the room. The three-piece furniture arrangement around a gas fireplace is also stark white. There are splashes of red and black pillows, throws and end tables scattered about.
The floors are cold marble.
The living area opens up to a state-of-the-art kitchen and a small eating space. The cabinets are black, but again, the countertops are white marble. All of the appliances are stainless steel.
A spiral staircase leads up to the second floor.
My eyes immediately find a gorgeous porch off the kitchen with an outdoor kitchen, fireplace, and steps down to an infinity pool.
“Let’s take our bags upstairs,” Leo murmurs and leads me to the stairs.
The upstairs is more of the same. Everything is crisply white with weird, modern art on the walls. We pass doors that I assume are to offices or spare bedrooms, and he leads me to a large, sparsely furnished master bedroom. The bed is the size of Alabama, and all the linens are white. There are black throw rugs covering the marble floor.
“Bathroom is through there.” He motions to the door to the left. “You can hang your things in the closet there, and the balcony is there.”
The balcony is the best thing I’ve seen so far. I wander over, open the glass door and step out onto the covered space. There are two oversize rocking chairs, and the view is breathtaking.
The ocean is bright blue, reflecting the sun. There is a slight breeze.
I would spend every minute of every day out here if I could.
“You haven’t said a word,” Leo says from behind me.
I turn and lean against the railing, watching him.
His hair moves with the breeze. His tattooed hands are tucked in the pockets on his ass, pulling his red tee tightly over his hard chest.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
“I would spend every day out on this balcony.”
He chuckles and nods. “I usually do when I’m here.”
“How often are you here?”
He frowns. “Not often. Maybe about two days every two to three months.”
“So, you spend roughly one to two weeks here each year?” I ask, surprised.
“Lately, yeah.”
“Damn, no wonder you needed a break.” I cross my arms over my chest. When will he leave again?
He tilts his head to the side, watching me closely. “What was that thought you just had?”
“Just thinking about your busy schedule,” I respond.
“That’s the second time you’ve lied to me today,” he murmurs softly, his eyes hard.
“It’s not a lie.”
He moves toward me and brushes my lower lip with his thumb. “Talk to me.”
“You’re busy,” I state simply.
His eyes narrow, watching me, and then he sighs. “I’ve slowed down.”
“For now.” I shrug. “Did you decorate this place?” I ask before he can drill me further on the subject.
“No.” He laughs. “This is pretty much what it looked like when I moved in.”
“It’s not you,” I tell him honestly. “It’s cold and impersonal.”
“What am I?” he asks and moves a little closer.
“You’re not this ultramodern, sterile place.”
“Maybe I should have it redecorated?” he asks with a grin.
“Maybe.” I shrug.
I don’t like it that he lives here. That’s what it boils down to. I hate it that he owns a house in LA and not in Seattle. This isn’t where he belongs.
“Okay, your brain is moving past the speed of light, and as much as I’d love to torture you until you talk to me, we need to get you to Burbank.” He leans in to kiss me softly, tenderly, and I’m shocked to feel tears trying to form in my eyes. “We’ll talk later.”
“I’m fine.”
“We’ll talk later.”
***
“Thanks for coming all this way for this interview, Ms. Williams.” Mr. Foss smiles and shakes my hand. He’s shown me around the offices, introduced me to a few people, and now we’re settled in his office, ready to get down to business.
“Thanks for having me.” I smile brightly.
“Your résumé is certainly impressive, and there are about three other people who will join us shortly for the interview. But before they do, I have a couple of questions.”
“Of course.”
“I called your former employer at Emerald City magazine.”
Fuck.
“Yes?”
“I’ve known Bob for quite some time. As you know, the world of journalism is a small one.” He smiles kindly, but I feel my stomach clench.
“That it is.” I nod. Get to the point.
“Bob wasn’t terribly complimentary,” he begins, and I feel my cheeks heat.
That son of a bitch!
“But I know, being in the business we are, that there are always two sides to a story.” He raises an eyebrow.
“Mr. Foss,” I begin and clear my throat. “I love what I do. I think you’ll see from my résumé and other references that I’m dedicated and that I’m good at my job. But I’m fiercely loyal to my family, and I would hope that any employer who takes me on would respect that.”
He watches me for a moment, leaned back in his chair, his fingers laced over his round belly. Finally, he purses his lips and nods. “Fair enough.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Why am I going to this again?” I ask Leo as he drives up the freeway the next morning.
“Why not?” he asks.
“I could have just stayed at your place and sent out résumés until you got home.”
“That’s boring.” He grins over at me. “Besides, I thought I’d take you over to the pier in Santa Monica on the way back home.”
“Sightseeing?” I ask with a grin.
“Sure.” He shrugs. “I’ll take you on the Ferris wheel.”
“I’m afraid of heights.”
“I’ll keep you safe.” He kisses my hand and pulls into a parking lot.
“We’re at Columbia Records.” I tilt my head back and stare at the tall building.
“Oh good, ’cause that’s where I wanted to go.” He laughs at me as he climbs out of the car.
“You’re a smart-ass.” I smack his arm and then laugh when he swings me back into a deep dip and kisses me silly.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his eyes happy.
“You’re forgiven,” I whisper back.
“You’re easy.” He laughs and hugs me to him as we enter the building, and he leads me to the bank of elevators.
“What are we doing here?” I ask.
“The other guys are already here.”
“Nash is here? Why?”
“We’re doing an interview and some photos for a spread in People for when the next album releases. It’s not for a few months, but this way we don’t have to do it later.”
“Okay, so again, why am I here?”
“I thought it would be fun.” He frowns down at me. “Are you seriously uncomfortable with this?”
“I don’t know.”
“We won’t be long.” He kisses my forehead as the doors open to a lobby that wraps around to a photo studio already set up with lights and a white backdrop.
“Hey, man.” A shorter guy with a tall Mohawk grips Leo in a hug. “How you been?”
“Good, man. Hey, this is Sam.” Leo turns to me wi
th a grin. “Sam, this is DJ, our bassist. You’ve met Eric and Jake. That over there is Gary.”
Everyone smiles and waves.
“Good to see you again.” Eric smiles, his voice friendly and void of the flirtation from before.
“Were you testing me when I met you back in Seattle?” I ask him and plant my hands on my hips.
“You passed.” He shrugs and grins widely. Jesus, no wonder the women throw their underwear at him.
“You’re too cute for your own good.” I offer him a mock glare. “Don’t flirt with me or I’ll have to hurt you.”
“I like her.” Gary calls out from where he’s sitting in a director’s chair having his makeup done.
“Gee, you look pretty,” Leo taunts him.
“Shut up.”
“Mr. Nash, if you’ll sit here, we’ll get you ready. Everyone else is good to go.”
“You are not touching me with makeup,” Leo growls, and I slap my hand over my mouth before I laugh out loud.
“But, the lights…” The poor makeup artist stops talking when Leo raises his hand.
“It’s called Photoshop.”
“You’re an ass.” Jake smirks and scrolls through his phone.
“But I’m makeup-free,” Leo agrees. “Where’s Lori?” he asks Gary.
“Right here!”
We all turn as a very pregnant, very tall brunette woman glides into the room.
Good God, she’s gorgeous.
“Hey, pretty face.” Leo grins and hugs Lori gently, lays his hand on her belly and kisses her cheek.
I might have to kill her.
“How are you feeling?” he asks her.
“Fat, tired and pregnant.” She laughs. “But Gary’s taking care of me.”
“Get your hands off my wife, asshole.” Gary calls out, his eyes closed. This must be usual behavior.
“I want you to meet someone.” Leo backs away and gestures toward me. “This is Sam.”
Lori’s mouth drops in surprise, and her wide eyes meet Leo’s. “You’re introducing me to a woman?”
“Shut up,” he mutters and laughs.
“Holy shit. Hi.” She moves as quickly as she can toward me and instead of shaking my hand, she pulls me into a tight hug. “It’s so great to meet you.”
“Hi.” I smile and pull out of her embrace. “Shouldn’t I know you from somewhere?”
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