by Jillian Dodd
I reluctantly take the ring off, put it in the safe, and go to work.
Off Limits
Cash
I'm outside Cade's office waiting for him to get off a conference call. I've filled out a bunch of paperwork, but still have no idea exactly what I'll be doing. I probably should have done some research on what a junior agent does.
I do very much like my salary, however. Beats the pants off what I was making in Seattle.
While I wait, I find myself daydreaming about a pale shoulder shimmering in the moonlight as a hot-ass girl rode me. I think about the disappointment I felt when I woke up and she was gone.
"Cade will see you now," Carly--his way-too-pretty assistant--tells me, leading me into his modern office.
"Have a seat," he says. "So, how does it feel to be back home?"
"I've only been here since yesterday, but so far so good. Carter's house is sweet. Although the little bitch made me drive his Escalade here instead of his Bentley."
My brother leans back in his chair and laughs. "Can't say I blame him. How many cars have you wrecked since you turned sixteen?"
"Come on. None of those accidents were my fault."
"Tell that to the two dead Porsche Carreras."
"So, I saw my salary, not bad. Do I get a pretty car too? A house on the beach? Use of the corporate jet?"
"For now, what you get to do is be an assistant on the set of a movie."
"A movie? I thought I was going to be a junior talent agent? Put the law degree to good use."
"You need to learn the business before you'll be ready to take clients of your own. A movie set is a good place to start. Especially, now."
"Whatever you think," I say with a shrug. If he wants to pay me that much to poke around a movie set, I have no problem with it. "So what's the movie? Who's in it?"
"One of my top clients, Ashlyn Roberts."
When he says her name, I can't help but smile.
"Oh, no," he says. "Wipe that smile off your face. Ashlyn Roberts is off limits to you. In fact, she's the reason I want you there."
"Oh, really?" I say with a completely straight face. "How come?"
"She only has a couple more weeks of filming left and needs to get through them without any drama. I don't have her signed for another project because, frankly, the industry is waiting to see how this one goes. And, right now, it's not looking good. Reports are that she's been high on set. That her head isn't in the game when she shows up. They've had to work around her crazy schedule with this guy she was dating. So your job is to watch her. See that she has no distractions. Stays out of trouble. We had two deals on the table. One, a very lucrative one that I thought she should take, but the studio rescinded the offer last week when the sex tape broke. The other is one that her manager wants her to take, one I believe could kill her career. I'm afraid he'll either talk her into it or that it will be her only option. I've worked too hard to help her get to this point, and I genuinely like the girl. I don't want to see her go down in flames.
"She also has some other issues. She hates her co-star, Kenton Mills. And I'm pretty sure the feeling is mutual. I've been telling her for months that she needs to fire her manager and publicist, but she won't listen because she thinks they are friends. Her personal life is a mess, and that was before her ex-boyfriend released a sex tape of her. I believe both her publicist and her manager had a role in the tape being released, but I've yet to prove it. Really, it's too bad you didn't make it to the wedding. I could have introduced you to Ashlyn then. Although she was kind of drunk from doing shots with the groomsmen."
"The groomsmen, meaning you and our brother. Why is that bad?"
"Because she was hammered. She'd been dating Zach Ellison. Do you know who he is?"
"Boy band guy?"
"Yeah. After the sex tape released, he told her that he was going to stand by her side. But he broke up with her at the wedding."
"He sounds like a dick."
"His family is very close-knit. I'm sure his parents made him."
"Still."
"Fine. I think the guy's a douche. But, even though he was a distraction, at least with him, she was getting mostly good press."
"And now?"
"I'm waiting for photos to show up from this weekend."
"What happened this weekend?" I ask, trying not to sweat.
"She called Carter, borrowed his plane, picked up some random guy, took him to Vegas and, according to the pilots, they fucked loudly on the plane. Twice."
"Sounds like a fun girl," I say with a laugh.
"She's a sweet girl, but she's ruled by her emotions. She's such a good actress and has a good head on her shoulders in every area of her life except love and friendship. It's almost like she's desperate or something."
Or something, I think naughtily.
"Anyway, if we don't get her on track, her career will be over. And I'd hate to see that. So, your job is to babysit her."
"Babysit her, how?" I ask, although I have plenty of ideas, putting her over my knee and spanking her hot naked ass if she gets too out of hand, being first on the list.
"Just get to be friends with everyone on set. But, mostly, keep an eye on her. She's a ticking time bomb. I want you to make sure she doesn't go off."
I bite my lip, holding back a smile, knowing exactly what happens when she goes off. It's loud, dirty, and hot as fuck.
Cade smacks my back and laughs. "I know that look, bro. Keep it in your pants. That's rule number one. Flirt with her if you need to, but absolutely no fucking. Got it?"
"Got it," I lie.
"Good. Carly will take care of your credentials." He slaps a thick stack of paper in front of me. "This is the movie script. You'll be reading a lot of these soon."
"So I'll be going to the set today?" I ask, trying not to sound too eager.
"Read the script first. Carly is also going to give you a binder with info on Ashlyn. Read it. Memorize it. Put that brilliant mind to good use and help me figure out how the hell we're going to keep her from destroying her career."
I go back to Carter's house, sit on the deck overlooking the ocean, and flip through the information Carly gave me on Ashlyn Roberts. It's pretty basic stuff--hell, I think I know more personal stuff about her after spending less than twenty-four hours with her--but our time together was of a pretty personal nature.
I should have told Cade about Vegas, and I'm nervous someone will tell him that it was me on the plane with her. I don't typically lie to my family, but this--is different.
Besides, she said we'd be getting a quickie divorce this week.
Once she knows where to find me, I expect to get those papers. Then it will all be over, and we can chalk it up to one of those crazy nights.
Okay, back to business.
Ashlyn started her career when she moved to Los Angeles at seventeen. This article says that she got the first role she auditioned for, which was a cheerleader who moonlighted as a shifter slayer. She showed up at the audition in a cheerleading skirt with a black leather jacket and was chewing bubble gum. She was unknown and exactly what they were looking for. After two years on the series, she got a few small roles on the big screen. She played a vampire in a popular series and followed that role with the sexy, girl-next-door love interest of a nerd who was stung by a radioactive wasp and turned into a super hero. Since then, she's played the lead in numerous romantic comedies, a female super hero, and a kick-ass spy. All big budget films. All commercial success. She has a modeling contract with a large perfume brand, a preppy designer label, and a mass-market makeup line. Last year alone, she earned fourteen million dollars, making her one of the top ten grossing actresses. The statistics show that for every dollar the studio paid her, they earned back $68.70.
I flip through the file looking for articles about her personal life and find nothing at all about her family. So I do an internet search and find an article where she mentioned that her dad passed away when she was young.
My bro
ther might be right. She may be desperate for love.
I remember her babbling meltdown. How she told me all sorts of little secrets.
I read the tabloid articles about her boyfriends and her relationship with that dick, Luke O'Brien, who better hope I never run into him.
I check out her manager's social media. Don't like him.
I check out her publicist. She has a certain sex appeal, if you like girls who look like they belong on a pole. And when I see the photos of her with Luke, dating back to before his split with Ashlyn, I decide she's a conniving, scheming bitch.
So far, the only person I'm going to like of those who deal with her is my brother. But I may be biased.
Next, I check out her whirlwind courtship with dick number two, Zach Ellison, who left her when she needed him the most. But after looking at the photos, I agree with my brother. She was just a pawn.
That's what I can give her. I don't want or need anything from her. I just want her.
Then I realize I sound stupid. We just met.
It was just one night.
But I can't stop thinking about her.
I Shouldn't
Ashlyn
I'm jogging on the beach this morning when a guy catches my attention. He's shirtless, hot and sweaty, and has a towel wrapped around his neck. He looks like he just finished his morning workout.
My first thought is that it's Mr. Sexy, but that can't be. He'd be back in--was it Seattle?
I jog faster and watch as he walks up a set of stairs and goes into a house not far from mine.
Then I realize whose house it is. That wasn't Mr. Sexy, it was just Carter Crawford out for his morning run.
Come to think of it, Sexy reminded me a bit of Carter--similar athletic build, great arms, pretty smile.
I shake my head.
I must be losing it. I'm obsessed with the guy.
I look down at the ring still sparkling on my finger.
Yep. I'm obsessed.
But I can't stop thinking about him. How hot it was. And how sweet. I just remembered this morning something he did when we were in bed, finally exhausted and falling to sleep.
He kisses me on the forehead. "I Vegas love you," he says, running his hand softly down my side.
"Why did you kiss my forehead?" I ask.
"Because you're the coolest girl I've ever married," he teases, but I know in my heart it's more than that.
I glance at my watch, knowing I need to get to work. I've had enough problems on set as it is. I can't miss my call time.
I run back to my house, throw my shit in a bag, and hop in the town car that's idling in my driveway.
I've been thinking about doing something that I know I shouldn't.
Harper is on her honeymoon, for goodness' sake.
I shouldn't message her.
I think about her and Maddox's fairytale courtship and how they got together because of me.
Well, technically, because of my agent, Cade Crawford. Cade is only in his early thirties, but he's a force to be reckoned with. He's smart, extremely handsome, and an excellent talent agent who works with many of the top names in Hollywood. His younger brother, Carter--who is even hotter--is a former college quarterback who got his law degree and became a sports agent. Harper is a gorgeous model who had a cameo role in one of my movies a few years ago. We hit it off right away, which was shocking because on the surface we're nothing alike. I'm athletic, a bit of a tomboy, and a goofball, who no matter how many red carpets I walk will probably never be comfortable on a runway. Harper, on the other hand, looks like she was born for just that. She has an effortless style, an amazing body, is a bit prissy, but she's funny as hell. She travels the globe modeling and I'm always filming or promoting, but when we get together, we have a really good time.
Cade had bought a table at a gala to raise money for a children's charity and offered me two tickets. Harper happened to be in town, so we dressed up and went. Little did she know that night would change her life. Carter had brought one of his clients, the very sexy professional running back, Maddox Harper.
When we were all introduced, I joked that if he and Harper got married her name would be Harper Harper.
Now, six months later, it is.
I picture her lazily swinging her arm off a hammock, letting her fingertips graze the azure waters on her honeymoon, telling Maddox that it's their best trip ever. If I picture them in bed doing what they should be doing on their honeymoon, I won't be able to send this text.
But, I do.
Me: Happy Honeymoon!
Me: How is it?
Me: That's a stupid question, right? Of course, it is amazing.
Me: And I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but . . . I'm at the end of my rapidly fraying rope. And I don't want to bother you and you may not even get this text, but I'm desperate.
Me: Really desperate.
Me: Like I've never felt so crazy desperate in my life.
My phone rings and Harper's name flashes on the screen.
"Don't kill yourself, Ash! It will all blow over, I promise. I know it's really embarrassing and all, but people will forget about the sex tape."
"I wasn't going to kill myself. I can't believe you think I would!"
"You said you were desperate. No, crazy desperate. What are you desperate about?"
"Okay, this is going to sound like an odd request, but do you know how I could get ahold of Ben Smith? He was at your wedding."
"Ben Smith? Um, no. I don't think I know anyone by that name. Hang on. Let me ask Maddox. Baby, do you know a Ben Smith?"
I hear him say no.
"I'm sorry, Ash, but we don't know anyone named Ben Smith and there certainly wasn't one on the guest list."
"Oh, my god! That's it! I need the guest list! Can I get a copy of it?" I start babbling. "Really, I just need a list of all the guys who were there between the ages of twenty and thirty. Guys I don't know. Ones that are hot--like, holy hell hot."
"I really can't think of who that would be. There were a lot of good-looking men at our wedding. Why do you need to find him? Wait. Did you sleep with him? You were there with Zach!"
"Zach broke up with me. Actually, his family broke up with me in a press release."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Ash, but I think it's for the best."
"I think you were right. I think all that romantic stuff was more for his fans than me."
"Can you tell me anything about this guy besides he was hot? Did he say what he does for a living? Does he play football?"
"Oh, maybe. He certainly had the body. No! Wait! He said he was a lawyer. From Seattle, maybe? I can't remember exactly."
There's noise in the background as she opens a door, to the ocean, I think. All of a sudden, I can hear the wind. And I can only hear snippets of her conversation with Maddox.
"Do you know a lawyer from Seattle . . . could have been . . . ash . . . flight . . . didn't."
I hear the door shut as she comes back on the line. "We have no idea. Are you sure he was a wedding guest and not like a bartender?"
"Uh--" There's no way he was a bartender. But I can't tell her that.
"Is this really important?"
I sigh big and look at my now empty ring finger. Why do I feel naked without it?
"Yeah, it is. I just have something of his that I need to return."
"Like his phone?"
"Yeah, like that. He'll want it back."
"Plus, you want to see him again, right?"
I smile, she knows me well. "Yeah, I do."
"Tell you what. I'm going to text my wedding planner and tell her to email you the list of both wedding guests and servers."
"Ohmigawd, thank you! Happy Honeymoon! Bye!"
I toss my phone in my bag as we roll through the studio gates.
Probably Married
Ashlyn
I'm sitting on my deck this morning after my usual morning jog, drinking coffee and trying not to think about Ben Smith.
Actually,
I hate that name. It doesn't fit him. He'll always be Sexy to me.
I'm also scouring the guest list the wedding planner sent over.
I do a quick run through assuming that more than likely he did what I did. A real first name and a fake last name.
Because Smith?
There's an actor named Benjamin, who I know is in his fifties.
Definitely not him.
I don't see anyone else who fits, so I decide to take a different approach. Anyone I don't personally know, I'm going to look them up.
And because I'm superstitious in a weird way, I decide to start from the bottom and work my way to the top. I'm on the R's when the hot guy from the other day goes running by. The guy I thought was Carter--but isn't.
By the time I get myself out of my chair, shove the papers under a planter--so they don't blow away--and race down the stairs to the beach, he's long gone.
Sucker's fast.
And buff.
Asshole's probably married too.
But if he runs the beach in both directions, he's going to come by again.
Maybe he's a friend of Carter's? Or maybe I'm dumb and that wasn't even Carter's house he went into. I've only been there once, but I know it was around there somewhere.
So I sit on the stairs and wait.
And wait.
And wait.
And, wait.
Jeez, how far does he run?
I close my eyes and, for a few precious moments, remember our romantic time in the bathtub. I love how playful Sexy was and how serious he could be at the same time. I've never had so much fun with another person in my life.
Why I am I sitting here waiting for some random beach jogger? I'm being silly. I need to stop sitting here and get back to the list.
Whoosh.
I look up and see he's sprinted by me.
I can only see his back and maybe it's wishful thinking--maybe I'm hallucinating--but his back looks a lot like Sexy's did.
I go tearing after him.
"Hey, wait up!" I yell.
He doesn't stop.
Damn headphones! People shouldn't be allowed to wear them!
I keep running, trying to catch up.
"Hey!"
He still doesn't stop.