by Kelly Myers
Olivia guides me through wide open, airy rooms and then up a staircase. At the top, I pause and admire the panoramic view. Un-fucking-believable. I think I can see all the way to Catalina Island. She guides me to a loft that overlooks the rear patio dotted with furniture, firepits, potted palms and a 75-foot lap pool. This place must be at least 7,000 square feet, I think, and then I get a whiff of jasmine.
I turn and see a raven-haired beauty approach and the first thing I notice is her bright red, luscious lips. I pull my gaze up and find myself looking into a stunning pair of green eyes. Bright like emeralds. She sweeps in, all glamorous and feminine, and I have to force myself to breathe.
“Mr. Wilder?” she asks.
I instantly fall in love with her voice. It’s got this lush, sultry edge that makes my insides do strange things. Okay, Jax, she’s hot. Fuck, get it together. Your future depends on the success of this meeting. “Yeah,” I say and offer my hand. “But, just call me Jax.”
Her small hand practically disappears in mine. It’s so smooth and soft. I swallow hard and lift my eyes to meet hers. Something flashes in their green depths and I realize we’re still holding hands. I let go. Reluctantly.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jax. I’m Easton.” She gives me a smile and I feel something hot slam in my gut. An attraction that catches me completely off-guard. “Thank you for coming.”
As Olivia slips out, Easton motions to a pair of chairs that sit side by side. “Please, take off your jacket and have a seat.”
“Thanks,” I say, and shrug out of my leather jacket. I lay it over the back of the chair and drop down, placing my helmet on my lap. I feel like a complete neanderthal, mumbling a few words here and there. I run a hand through the long hair on top of my head, pushing it back. I can see her gaze drop to my helmet and the tattooed arm that rests on it. I feel so out of place. Rough around the edges. Not worthy of sitting my ass on the pristine pillows that cover this chair.
God, what would it be like to be with a classy woman like this?
Forget it, I tell myself. You’re a bum and she’d never stoop to be with someone like you.
“So, Miss Ross-”
“Please, call me Easton.”
Classy and polite, I think. The complete opposite of me. “Easton,” I say, liking how her name sounds on my tongue. I start to imagine other things I could do with my tongue when it comes to Easton. And, I can come up with some very creative, wicked things that would probably shock her ladylike sensibilities.
I clear my throat. “So, tell me a little more about your problem.”
“Well, someone’s been calling the house phone and leaving messages for me. The voice is all distorted and they’ve been coming more frequently. It’s starting to get...disturbing, to say the very least.”
“Threatening messages?” I ask.
She scrunches her pretty face. “I wouldn’t say that, but they make me extremely uncomfortable.”
“How long has this been going on and about how many messages have you received?”
“It started a few weeks ago and I’ve gotten almost 30-40, I’d say. Within the last couple of days, the calls have increased.” She wrings her perfectly-manicured hands.
“And, you say they’re only coming in on one line? The house phone?”
“That’s right.”
“So, nothing on your cell phone?” I ask.
She shakes her dark head and I notice how the loose curls swish just above her shoulders.
“And, you haven’t noticed any strangers loitering around the property? Anyone following you?”
“No. Thank God,” she adds.
“No one has physically or verbally threatened you?”
“No, nothing like that,” she says.
I don’t think this sounds too dire. “Honestly,” I tell her, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. It sounds to me like someone got your number and thought it would be fun to prank call you.”
“You think so?”
“I do. But, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
Her green eyes widen a bit.
“So, I think the first thing we should do is a thorough sweep of your house. I’d like to take a look at what security features you have in place and then recommend some possible upgrades.”
“If I’m being honest, security has never been a high priority. I’ve never had any problems and I’m constantly surrounded by people.”
“Well, it sounds like you’re having a problem right now,” I say.
She slides a tongue between her front teeth and those bright red lips, but doesn’t comment.
“Are you saying this house doesn’t have any type of home security system?” I ask. There’s no way, I think. How trusting-- how stupid-- can you be?
“It has something because there’s a panel by the front door, but I’ve never used it.”
Seriously? This place screams ‘rob me.’
“Well, I think that needs to change. Especially if you have a stalker.” I stand up and walk over to the edge of the terrace and look down. My gaze scans the patio below, the hillside, the glass wall. “Do you know how easy it would be to climb over that wall? And, then walk right into your house?” I ask and point a finger down below. “Without any sensors or cameras, you may as well just invite every nutcase in West Hollywood to come on in.”
Those emerald eyes narrow. “You really think someone could climb up that steep hillside?”
“Easily,” I say and cross my arms.
Again, her gaze dips to the tattoo sleeve on my left arm. Is she judging me? Or, does she like it?
I kind of get the feeling she likes it.
“People are used to coming and going. I couldn’t possibly be arming and disarming an alarm all day.”
Oh, God forbid. We wouldn’t want the Princess to work too hard. “Would you rather wind up being kidnapped? Murdered? Body found in a ditch somewhere?”
She purses those luscious lips. “If you’re trying to scare me, I don’t appreciate it.”
I raise my hands, not looking for a debate or fight. I am the expert here, not her. “Look, I know what kind of scum is out there on the street and my job-- if you decide to hire me-- is to protect you. It’s not going to be cheap to install a state-of-the-art system in this...very large house. And, my personal fee is-”
“I have no problem paying for whatever you decide I need in order to be safe,” she informs me in a tart voice. “I just don’t like to be taken advantage of or strong-armed. So, as long as we’re on the same page...I’d like to hire you.”
Thank Christ, I think. I want to sag in relief, but I only nod. This woman is smart. Not the dumb starlet I expected to meet. She possesses a fire within her that makes my blood heat up. Stirs an interest in me that I thought died a long time ago.
It’s been so long since I cared about a woman. And, ever since Maddy died, a serious relationship never even crossed my mind. Don’t get me wrong. When I feel the need, I know where to go to relieve it. But, anything other than a roll in the sack seemed out of the question.
Let’s face it, I’ve never been boyfriend material. My reputation is wild, hard and fast. Commitment is not something I do. Not something I’ve ever wanted or needed.
I take a long look at Easton and wonder if she has a wild, primitive side hidden beneath her perfect facade.
And, I wonder what it would take to pull that mask off, bare what’s really inside, and see the real Easton Ross.
5
Easton
I can’t stop looking at his tattoo-covered arm. All my life, I have been a good girl. Polite, honest, hard-working. I never gave in to my deepest desires and I certainly never hooked up with a bad boy of any kind.
And, Jax Wilder is a lost soul that makes me wonder what I’ve been missing out on all of these years. What would it be like to be with a man who is so raw, hot and, I’m willing to bet, wild and passionate in bed. My stomach flutters.
I shake my head, unable to believe wh
ere my thoughts are drifting. This is so not like me. I’m always extremely restrained and in control. But, this man is making me feel things that I’ve never felt before.
He’s definitely not my usual pretty boy type and I can’t believe how fascinated I am by the ink on his arm. I see different designs all linked together that go up his arm and then disappear beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. And, then something is just visible on his lower neck. A dagger? I get the sudden urge to peel that fitted t-shirt off and explore his tattoos.
With my mouth.
Oh, Lord. What is going on? This needs to stop immediately.
Jaxon Wilder isn’t who I expected and he’s throwing me for a loop. He’s beyond gorgeous in a dark, masculine way and I sense he has secrets. I have no doubt that he’s trouble. With a capital “T.” I can see it, feel it, pouring off him in heated waves, from his perfectly-messed bedhead to his tattoos to the dark scruff on his angular jawline. And, don’t even get me started on those chocolate brown eyes.
I absently run a tongue over my lips and press them together. Focus, Easton.
He’s saying something and I have to snap myself back to attention. “I’m sorry?”
“I asked if we could do that tour now?”
“Of course.” I turn around, look heavenward and press a hand to my chest. It’s probably best if I keep my distance from this man. I’ll let Olivia handle all the details, I decide, before he can get under my skin.
Because I have no doubt that once he does then there would be no getting him out.
I motion for him to follow me and we head out to get a better look at the house setup. “So, there are two floors that angle out to the rear patio and, as you can see, the walls are all floor to ceiling glass, which doesn’t leave much for privacy.”
“No curtains?”
“Just in the bedrooms,” I say.
“Voyeur’s paradise,” he comments. Then, “You like people to watch you?” he asks, his voice low and slightly raspy.
I feel my heart trip in my chest. “I don’t know what you mean.”
One side of his mouth lifts. “You’re an actress so I assume you like the attention.”
I don’t like where the conversation is going so I choose to ignore his last few comments. “Over here are three of the seven bedrooms. In the other wing are three more.”
“Where’s your room?” he asks.
I press my lips together and swallow hard. “My bedroom?”
He nods.
“I’m in the master bedroom downstairs.”
“Can I take a look?”
“Of course.” I guide him down a wide set of open stairs and lead him down a breezy corridor to my room. It’s large and bright, the windows and patio doors wide open. I walk through a splash of sunlight and wave a hand through the air. “Here’s my room. Nothing too exciting.”
When I turn to look at him, his gaze is on my king-sized bed and something within those chocolate eyes darkens to a deep mink. Then, he heads straight to the door and shuts it, turns the lock, rattles it in its frame. “You need new locks,” he says. “This wouldn’t keep a fly out. And, why the hell do you keep everything wide open? Are you trying to invite the whole neighborhood in?”
I bristle. “I’m sorry, but I like to get some fresh air in here. What’s so wrong with that?”
“Everything when you have a stalker.” His tall figure moves from window to window, pulling them shut and locking them. I can’t help but notice the way his t-shirt pulls against his muscled back.
Jax Wilder is bossy, I decide, and a bit condescending. I fist my hands by my sides, but know that he is right. I need to be more careful and not take anything for granted regarding safety.
“Like I said earlier, from what you told me, the messages sound pretty harmless. But, you need to be aware and start locking your doors and windows.”
A part of me is annoyed that he doesn’t seem overly-concerned. What did you expect, Easton? That he would fawn all over you? Get over yourself.
“Depending what happens and how this all plays out, you may want to file a restraining order. But, first things first. Let’s check that alarm panel out.”
As we walk down to the front of the house, I look up and check out his profile. Goodness, he’s tall. It’s a little unnerving having to look up so high. Most of the men in Hollywood are on the short side and I’m 5’6” so I’m usually on eye level or only have to look up a few inches at most. But, Jax has to hover at least seven inches above me. “So, you really just think it’s someone having fun?” I ask.
“Probably, but I can’t say for sure just yet.”
He sounds all business and, as we walk by artwork, expensive knick knacks and endless rooms, he doesn’t appear all that impressed. By my house or my celebrity. It kind of bothers me but, at the same time, it’s incredibly refreshing. Most people exclaim how they’re a fan right away and gush nonstop. But, not Jax. As far as he’s concerned, I’m just a regular person and he is definitely a man of few words.
When we reach the front door, he strides up to the alarm panel, takes a brief look, turns and cocks his dark head at me. “Are you kidding? This piece of shit looks like it’s from 1980. It probably doesn’t even work.”
I release a frustrated breath and cross my arms. “I already told you. I don’t use it.”
“Well, that’s gonna change,” he mutters under his breath and turns back to the panel. As he fiddles around with it, he starts talking about plans to update it. “We’re going to install a home security system that’s going to secure all entry points of your home using sensors that will communicate with a new panel.”
He glances over his wide shoulder to make sure I’m listening and I nod. “The components of the system will include the control panel that you will create a passcode to arm and disarm. It’s basically a computer that communicates with each installed component and connects with an alarm monitoring company. I also want to figure out the best places to install cameras.”
“Cameras?” I ask. I’m not sure how I feel about constantly recording everything.
“Mostly at interior and exterior entry points. They’ll be accessible from your phone or computer so you can check in at any time whether you’re here or not. I’m also going to install door and window sensors.” He looks around, eyes narrowing. “Do you have anything of extreme value? Because we can put motion sensors in, too, which will guard a particular space and less-frequented areas in a home this size.”
“I have some jewelry and artwork, but everything is insured.”
“After I install your new system, your insurance is going to drop,” he predicts proudly. “Anyone breaks in here, a high-decibel alarm will sound and notify the alarm company who will then contact you. If you don’t pick up, the police will come right away.”
“I should just get a dog,” I joke.
When his dark gaze meets mine, I feel something flutter in my stomach. “I want to hear those messages,” he says.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s go down to my office. You can listen to them there.”
6
Jax
I motion for Easton to lead the way down to her office. Not because I’m polite, but because I want to check out her ass.
And, it doesn’t disappoint. The woman definitely knows how to swivel her hips and her round ass has just the right amount of shake to make my mouth go dry.
“Are you thirsty?” she asks as we step into the office.
Her question catches me off-guard. Damn, it’s like she can hear my lewd thoughts. “Uh, sure.”
I watch her walk over to a small, concealed fridge. “Flat or sparkling?”
“Sorry?” I frown.
“Water,” she clarifies with a bemused smile. “Do you prefer flat or sparkling?”
“Oh, right.” Idiot, I think. “Flat is fine.” Rich people and all their endless choices.
She hands me a bottle of Evian water and I unscrew the cap and take a long swig. I can feel those vivid, jewel-
toned eyes on me. I swallow the water down and meet her gaze. The color is absolutely captivating and, like true emerald green, there’s a hint of a bright blue accent.
Damn this woman is beyond gorgeous. I’ve been with good-looking women but Easton Ross takes it to a whole new level. It’s like I’ve been happily driving a Ford Mustang and then bam! I find myself sitting in the famed “Picasso of the Motoring World”-- the 1963 Ferrari 250 GTO, the most expensive car in the world, sold for a whopping $70 million. It not only won the 1964 Tour de France, but placed fourth in Le Mans.
Good women, like high-end cars, are a mix of pedigree, power and performance. In other words, they’re a work of art. Like a revving engine that propels you forward, fucking a beauty like Easton would be thrilling, full of feeling and raw power.
And, I have a feeling that once my ass is sitting in a Ferrari, I’m not ever going to want to go back to the old Mustang.
Shit, who am I kidding? I don’t even own a car right now. It’s just me and my tempestuous Norton who fights me half the time I try to start her up.
My long fingers wrap tighter around the plastic bottle. Cut it out, Jax. Easton Ross is off-limits. Completely. No exceptions.
This job is too damn important and I can’t lose it because my attraction for the client ends up being my undoing. And, inevitable firing.
I let out a low breath. This would be so much easier if she was the dumb, flighty actress I expected. But, no, of course not. Instead, she’s stunning and smart. And, dammit, I find that combination sexy as hell. And, so very irresistible.
Just because I’m attracted to her doesn’t mean the feeling is reciprocated, I remind myself. This beauty is out of my league and I very much doubt that I’m her type. No way. She probably goes for the pretty boy actors.
“So, the messages are on the machine over here.”
My mind switches back into work mode and I follow her to the desk. It’s small and feminine. Just like her. I place my hands flat on its surface and lean forward. A shock of dark hair falls forward and I toss it back, out of my eyes, trying to focus. Easton sits down in the chair and hits play. A mechanical-sounding voice echoes throughout the room.