Code Name: Genesis

by Sawyer Bennett

“I let you into my body, Kynan,” she seethes, and I realize she’s had some buried fury she’s been keeping deep under wraps with me. I don’t interrupt her—just let her get it out. “That wasn’t a whim for me, and I wasn’t acting on just pure sexual attraction. I fell right back into it with you the minute I realized you hadn’t betrayed me, and all you wanted to do was bust a nut. So I’m sorry if I’m having a tough time coping, but please rest assured… I’ll sell our fake little love story. I’m actually quite good at what I do.”

  Joslyn stands there, chest heaving with indignation, but I can also see relief she managed to get that out. She clearly needed to.

  “You’re wrong about one thing.” My voice is soft, noncombative. I need to ease her off the ledge. We have less than ten minutes before she has to go on national TV.

  “What’s that?” she asks, her head tilted curiously.

  “It wasn’t just about busting a nut with you. I left you because I was angry and in emotional overload over just how fucking amazing it felt to be with you again. Give me a little credit why don’t you? Maybe I was just as overwhelmed as you by everything I’d learned, and I just didn’t handle it very well.”

  “Oh,” Joslyn breathes, as if she just had an epiphany. Then it dawns on her what I said, and she lets out an even longer, “O-h-h-h.”

  I take two steps, come right before her, and put my hands on her shoulders. Bending slightly, I look right into her eyes. “I think you and I have things to talk about. But the one thing I need you to know is I’m not angry with you anymore over what happened. It’s in the past and I’m letting it go, okay?”

  She nods, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. There are all kinds of things I’d like to do with her lip. Instead, I ask, “Let’s both put that bad stuff behind us. Okay, Jos?”

  “Okay,” she murmurs in agreement.

  It’s nothing for me to lean into her and press my lips to her forehead briefly. I only pull away because there’s a short knock on the door.

  Turning from Joslyn, I head to the door and open it. A young woman holding an iPad with a headset on says, “Miss Meyers goes on in ten. Anything else I can get for her?”

  I shake my head. “We’re good.”

  The woman beams and leaves.

  When I turn, Joslyn has the blue dress on and is sitting in the vanity chair, putting on her high-heeled booties. While I liked her better in her lingerie, there’s no denying she is the most exquisite creature I’ve ever known in my life. Her pale blond hair is in multi-layered waves down her back, and her eyes are dark and smoky. The dress is sleeveless, low cut, and fits her like a glove. She is sex personified. Yet, she also looks like an angel at the same time.

  She zips the last boot and stands, smoothing her dress. “Do I look okay?”

  “You’re more beautiful than any woman I’ve ever known,” I respond.

  Joslyn blushes, her cheeks and chest turning a rosy red. Her eyes sparkle, and she looks nineteen again.

  ♦

  Standing in the wings of the studio stage for The Cara Peterson Show, I watch Joslyn as she talks about her album that’s in production now. Sitting on a couch angled to an overstuffed chair where the host is settled, Joslyn is the epitome of style, beauty, and grace.

  Can’t say as I’ve ever watched The Cara Peterson Show, but her name is recognizable even to me, so she’s clearly got the reach we need. The audience went crazy when Joslyn was introduced a few minutes ago. I sweep my eyes over the people staring up with smiles on their faces, and it’s apparent just how much she’s loved.

  I don’t have to worry about her stalker being in the audience. These tickets were pre-sold weeks ago. Harry managed to pull a miracle and get her slipped into the guest lineup. I assume that means someone got bumped, but it’s not my problem.

  “So what do you love more, Joslyn?” Cara asks. She’s an attractive woman in her late forties who transitioned from national network news to her own talk show about a decade ago. “Creating films or music?”

  “Without a doubt… music,” Joslyn replies instantly with a slight chuckle. It’s obvious she gets this question a lot. “While acting is challenging and rewarding, my music comes from my soul. And to share it with others is something indescribable. Writing and performing songs will be my first love. Always.”

  “Speaking of love,” Cara says mysteriously, casting a sly look out at the audience before turning back to Joslyn. My body tenses because here it comes. Cara was filled in on the issue of Joslyn’s stalker, and she was prepared to set up the reveal about me. “I’ve heard a rumor you’ve got a new beau in your life.”

  For a brief, stunning moment, I want that statement to be true more than I want anything else. I shake it off, focusing in on the conversation.

  When the audience starts cheering, Joslyn gives them a shy smile before being coy with Cara. “You might say that.”

  “You’ve notoriously shied away from relationships,” Cara says, and that’s news to me. While I’ve loosely followed Joslyn’s career, I’ve never watched entertainment shows or read tabloids… those news sources where I’d find out about those sorts of things. I didn’t want to know about any of that.

  “I’ve always put my career first,” Joslyn replies with a laugh. “Not necessarily shied away.”

  Cara inclines her head graciously, although it’s clear she doesn’t believe that. From her demeanor, I realize the Hollywood gossip mill must take Joslyn Meyers being in a relationship as a big deal.

  “Rumor is…” Cara presses on. “That you’re in a relationship and it’s the real deal.”

  The audience goes nuts, screaming and cheering. People start calling out, “Who is it?”

  Whether it’s an act or not, Joslyn comes off embarrassed. She waves playfully at the audience, and Cara pushes once again. “Well… tell us. Clearly, this is huge news.”

  Joslyn tilts her head back and laughs. Her eyes are sparkling with amusement, and it’s a mighty fine acting job. “Okay, okay… I’ll tell you.”

  Cara motions for the audience to quiet down. Once they do, Joslyn leans toward Cara. “Okay… so I reconnected recently with my first love. My only love, actually. And well… let’s just say the sparks flew again.”

  “And are you going to tell us who the lucky man is? A Hollywood heartthrob? A rock star?”

  Laughing, Joslyn shakes her head. “Actually… he owns a security company. I’ve recently been in need of his services. It’s been years, but I reached out to him and he agreed to take my case. From there…well, nature just happened.”

  That’s good.

  Really good.

  Once her stalker sees this, it’s going to piss him off to know his own actions caused our reconnection. But will it be enough to provoke him?

  “Why do you need security?” Cara asks.

  Joslyn tries for a game smile, but it falters. Her voice rasps a bit when she explains, “I have a stalker. Things have gotten pretty bad. Well… I just feel safer with protection.”

  “That’s awful,” Cara croons, and the audience murmurs their assent.

  Joslyn manages a bit of a brighter smile.

  “What’s your new fella’s name?” Cara—going back to her reporter instincts—prods with a gleam to her eye.

  “Would you like to meet him?” Joslyn asks, and my body locks tight. This was most definitely not in the plan, but as Joslyn grins at me where I’m standing in the wings, I can see a devilish quirk to her lips.

  Cara turns to ask the audience. “Would we?”

  A deafening cheer rises, and Joslyn stands from the couch. She smiles across the way, motioning with her hand for me to come join her.

  I vow to myself if I get her back in bed, I’m going to spank her ass until it’s red as a fire engine. But for now, I decide to go with the flow. I’d dressed casually in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a blazer, so it’s with confidence I step out into the spotlight. A stagehand quickly mics me up.

  I grin at the audience as I throw the
m a wave. Turning to Joslyn, I lock my eyes on her as I head her way. Moving past Cara I give a small nod of my head, but then my attention returns to Joslyn.

  My pace doesn’t slow. I walk right into her, a hand going behind her head and another to her waist. My mouth crashes down on hers, a bit more punishing than necessary, but that’s payback for calling me out here like that. Still, the reward of her tongue slashing against mine as I bend her backward with the force of my kiss is everything.

  When I let her up, I vaguely hear Cara say, “Oh wow… now that’s a kiss.”

  Joslyn stares with eyes wide with astonishment, but also sizzling with heat. She felt that kiss between her legs if I was a betting man.

  As the crowd’s applause starts to die, Joslyn does a quick introduction to Cara and then I’m sitting on the couch next to Joslyn. I toss my arm over the back of the couch and let my fingers graze softly over the bare skin on her upper arm, hiding my satisfied grin when Joslyn shivers in response.

  To my surprise—and oddly, my delight because this is just a ruse after all—she shimmies in closer to my body until her side is plastered to me.

  “So, Kynan,” Cara drawls from her chair, boldly eyeballing me. “You’re a security professional?”

  I give her an incline of my head in acknowledgment. “I own a company called Jameson Force Security and—”

  I’m interrupted by Cara audibly swooning and the audience gasping. Confused, I watch Cara, who is fanning herself and staring at Joslyn. “You didn’t tell us he’s British. Oh my God… that accent.”

  I don’t even know what to say, but Cara winks at the audience. “Am I right, ladies? Like who wouldn’t fall in love with that voice?”

  I’m actually disappointed in myself when a warm flush creeps up my neck. I mean… I’m all for the ladies ogling me or whatever the fuck it is they do, but it’s Joslyn’s tiny giggle from beside me that has me staring down at her. She peeks up through long lashes and just shrugs, her amusement evident.

  But I don’t want to waste time or opportunity, since the message we came to convey needs to be said. I smile rakishly at Cara, but my eyes are hard with determination. “Don’t go swooning over me. I’m totally taken by this woman here. Like she said… she hired me to protect her from a particularly cowardly ponce who thinks he can terrorize her.”

  It’s here I glare directly into the camera, laying down my challenge. “And if he’s watching, I have a message. If he comes near my fiancée again, he’ll regret it.”

  This is so far off script from what Joslyn or Cara was anticipating, and I need to make sure this part of the interview isn’t cut. If he wasn’t provoked by Joslyn before, he will be now.

  But that doesn’t seem to be particularly important to Cara. She practically squeals, “Fiancée? You’re engaged. Where’s the ring? When are you going to tie the knot? You must tell us everything.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Joslyn

  “Go get into something comfortable,” Kynan says as we step inside my front door. “Do you want beer or wine?”

  “Wine,” I say as we move through the great room. I turn left toward my room, but Kynan goes right into the kitchen since he’s carrying the pizza we’d picked up.

  We had talked about going out to dinner with Lynn and Harry, both of whom were with us at The Cara Peterson Show, but I just didn’t have it in me. Perpetrating a ruse I was engaged to my first true love was about the most mentally exhausting thing I’d done in a long time.

  It wasn’t so hard letting the lies come forth. The story was pretty straightforward and based so much in truth because of how we reconnected that at least it felt realistic.

  The hard part was sitting there with Kynan’s arm around my shoulder, his thumb tenderly rubbing against my shoulder in perhaps a show of being supportive and nurturing. He’d issued a challenge to my stalker when he’d stared right in the camera and threatened him—and Cara and the audience practically swooned.

  The worst part was how genuine Kynan sounded. Cara was so taken with his British accent and his alpha-protective charm I barely was asked any other questions during the interview. It became The Kynan McGrath Show, and the man knows how to put on the charm. It seemed so natural and genuine when he told her how deeply he loved me all these years and how he had never been able to move on.

  He was smooth when Cara asked him why we’d broken up. He waved it off to youth and stupidity and left it at that.

  Kynan kissed me at the end of the segment, then he held my hand the entire way to the dressing room. I didn’t even want to bother getting into my jeans, eager to put the entire thing behind me because let’s face it… he sounded so convincing, my heart was starting to respond. I started wondering… could we have something?

  Yeah… my head was a mess and I was tired, so I declined dinner with Lynn and Harry. Instead, I opted for my favorite pizza. Kynan was quiet as he normally tends to be, but he still held my hand the entire way out of the studio and to my car since he’d driven us to the studio in it.

  He opened the passenger door for me, but before I could slide in, he put his hand around the nape of my neck and gave it a squeeze. Adding to my confusion he bent his head and murmured, “You did great, Joslyn. I think we set the trap.”

  His face was so close to mine. With his eyes like warm pools of concern and care, I thought he was going to kiss me for real.

  But he didn’t.

  He merely smiled and gestured for me to get in.

  Now, my current game plan is to get out of these booties because while they look killer, they are torture on my feet. After that, I’m going to remove my bra, put on a t-shirt and sweatshirt, along with my favorite pair of beat-up sweatpants, then I’m going to gorge on pizza and wine. I will hopefully drink enough I can fall into a catatonic sleep instead of playing every nuance of Kynan’s words and actions over and over again.

  In my bedroom, I head to my closet. It’s massive and decadent, with all the clothing and shoes on the perimeter shelves. In the center, I have a free-standing square dresser with a granite top that holds my lingerie and jewelry. After plopping onto a small tufted chair inside, I take off the booties and groan as my toes sink into the plush carpeting. I sit there a moment, my mind immediately wandering to the Cara Peterson interview and the kind and loving things Kynan had said about me.

  Lies, right?

  With a sigh, I force myself out of the chair. I have pizza and wine waiting, so I remove my jewelry—earrings, necklace, and rings—and put them all back in their proper places.

  My eye catches on a blue sapphire ring nestled in a velvet trough in one of the drawers. It’s huge, emerald cut, and so big I rarely wear it. I had bought it for myself when I won my first Grammy, but that was years ago. I doubt I’ve worn in three times since.

  I slide it onto the ring finger on my left hand. Cara Peterson had hounded Kynan once he announced we were engaged over the fact I hadn’t been wearing an engagement ring. I immediately jumped to his defense, telling Cara I had chosen not to wear it until we had officially announced our engagement but since the cat was out of the bag, I’d have to put it on.

  This would work.

  I hold my hand out, look at the sparkling facets, and hate the deep pit of longing within the middle of my stomach. I want this for myself—not for it to be a sham.

  And not necessarily with Kynan, although I suspect that might be a lie. Again, quite confused over all these feelings. It had occurred to me recently I’ve shied away from relationships. Lynn called me on the carpet yesterday. Truthfully, what I thought was a betrayal by the man I loved had warped the way I viewed the possibility of true love.

  Or, conversely, maybe I don’t believe in it and haven’t since the moment I was told Kynan cheated on me.

  It’s been a shitty way to live, and I don’t want to do it anymore.

  “Pretty ring.” Kynan’s voice comes from my closet door. He’s standing there, hands casually pushed into the front pockets of his jeans. He’s r
emoved his blazer, and the t-shirt underneath is molded superbly to his body. Both arms sport full-sleeve tattoos, and I remember being oh so turned on by them when I was younger.

  That feeling hasn’t changed.

  Kynan’s gaze moves from my face down to the ring. He nods at it, a silent prod to tell him about it.

  I shrug and take it off, setting it down in the drawer. “I figure we can use it as a prop engagement ring when we’re out in public.”

  “I’m sorry that was so hard on you today,” he says, and I’m rocked to the core by the regret I can hear in his voice.

  “It’s okay.” I shoot him a shy smile, for some reason incredibly relieved that it seems Kynan is truly done with being mad. I think part of the stress of the last few hours was knowing he was putting on such a show for the cameras but thinking under it all, he was still very much disgusted with my lack of trust in him before.

  I don’t hear any of that.

  I hear nothing but true empathy from him, and it touches me.

  “Let me get changed and we can gorge on some pizza,” I say with a grin. “It cures all woes.”

  Kynan pulls one hand from his pocket, then makes a motion with his index finger for me to spin around. “I’ll unzip your dress.”

  The warm rumble of words—his commanding tone—all of it hits me straight between my legs. Shaking my head to clear it, I take in a long breath. It doesn’t mean a thing.

  I turn away from Kynan, pulling my long hair over one shoulder to reveal the zipper. My ears strain to hear him, but he approaches me silently.

  Then a large hand comes to my shoulder, warm and heavy. The other goes to the zipper, and he starts to lower it ever so slowly. He’s standing close because I can feel heat coming off his body. His breath hits the nape of my neck.

  Is this a seduction or is he being neighborly?

  I can’t help but snort at the thought, and Kynan’s hand stops midway down my back. “What’s so funny?”

  Well, fuck… might as well be honest. I give a slight clearing of my throat. “I was just wondering if you were being neighborly by helping me with my zipper or if you were trying to seduce me?”